mSi 


• 


THE      PRICE 
OF      THINGS 


BY 

Elinor   Glyn 

•  Author  of  "Three  Weeks," 
"The  Philosophy  of  Love,"  etc. 


New  York 
The   Macaulay  Company 


Copyright,  1918, 1919,  by 
THE  INTERNATIONAL  MAGAZINE  CO. 

When  copyrighted  in  1918  and  1919  by  The  Inter- 
national Magazine  Co.,  this  book  was  published  serially 
under  the  title,  "The  Awakening  of  Lady  Ardayre." 

Copyright,  1919,  by 
D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY 

When  copyrighted  in  1919  by  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  this 
book  was  published  under  the  title,  "Family." 


Copyright,  1919,  by 
ELINOR  GLYN,  LIMITED 


PRINTED   IN  THE   UNITED   STATES  OF    AMERICA 


FOREWORD 

I  wrote  this  book  in  Paris  in  the  winter  of  1917-18 — 
in  the  midst  of  bombs,  and  raids,  and  death.  Everyone 
was  keyed  up  to  a  strange  pitch,  and  only  primitive  in- 
stincts seemed  to  stand  out  distinctly. 

Life  appeared  brutal,  and  our  very  fashion  of  speak- 
ing, the  words  we  used,  the  way  we  looked  at  things,  was 
more  realistic — coarser — than  in  times  of  peace,  when 
civilization  can  re-assert  itself  again.  This  is  why  the 
story  shocks  some  readers.  I  quite  understand  that  it 
might  do  so;  but  I  deem  it  the  duty  of  writers  to  make 
a  faithful  picture  of  each  phase  of  the  era  they  are  living 
in,  that  posterity  may  be  correctly  informed  about  things, 
and  get  the  atmosphere  of  epochs. 

The  story  is,  so  to  speak,  rough  hewn.  But  it  shows 
the  danger  of  breaking  laws,  and  interfering  with  fate — 
whether  the  laws  be  of  God  or  of  Man. 

It  is  also  a  psychological  study  of  the  instincts  of  two 
women,  which  the  strenuous  times  brought  to  the  surface. 
"Amaryllis,"  with  all  her  breeding  and  gentleness,  react- 
ing to  nature's  call  in  her  fierce  fidelity  to  the  father  of 
her  child — and  "Marietta,"  becoming  in  herself  the  epit- 
ome of  the  age-old  prostitute. 

I  advise  those  who  are  rebuffed  by  plain  words,  and  a 
ruthless  analysis  of  the  result  of  actions,  not  to  read  a 
single  page. 


2135773 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 


THE   PRICE   OF   THINGS 


CHAPTER  I 

"If  one  consciously  and  deliberately  desires  happiness 
on  this  plane,"  said  the  Russian,  "one  must  have  sufficient 
strength  of  will  to  banish  all  thought.  The  moment  that 
one  begins  to  probe  the  meaning  of  things,  one  has 
opened  Pandora's  box  and  it  may  be  many  lives  before 
one  discovers  hope  lying  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  thought?  How  can  one  not 
think?"  Amaryllis  Ardayre's  large  grey  eyes  opened  in 
a  puzzled  way.  She  was  on  her  honeymoon  in  Paris  at 
a  party  at  the  Russian  Embassy,  and  until  now  had  ac- 
cepted things  and  not  speculated  about  them.  She  had 
lived  in  the  country  and  was  as  good  as  gold. 

She  was  accepting  her  honeymoon  with  her  accustomed 
calm,  although  it  was  not  causing  her  any  of  the  thrills 
which  Elsie  Goldmore,  her  school  friend,  had  assured 
her  she  should  discover  therein. 

Honeymoons !  Heavens !  But  perhaps  it  was  because 
Sir  John  was  dull.  He  looked  dull,  she  thought,  as  he 
stood  there  talking  to  the  Ambassador  A  fine  figure  of 
an  Englishman  but — yes — dull.  The  Russian,  on  the 
contrary,  was  not  dull.  He  was  huge  and  ugly  and 
rough-hewn — his  eyes  were  yellowish -green  and  slanted 
upwards  and  his  face  was  frankly  Calmuck.  But  you 
knew  that  you  were  talking  to  a  personality — to  one  who 


t  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

had  probably  a  number  of  unknown  possibilities  about 
him  tucked  away  somewhere. 

John  had  none  of  these.  One  could  be  certain  of  ex- 
actly what  he  would  do  on  any  given  occasion— and  it 
would  always  be  his  duty.  The  Russian  was  observing 
this  charming  English  bride  critically;  she  was  such  a 
perfect  specimen  of  that  estimable  race— well-shaped,  re- 
fined and  healthy.  Chock  full  of  temperament  too,  he 
reflected— when  she  should  discover  herself.  Tempera- 
ment and  romance  and  even  passion,  and  there  were 
shrewdness  and  commonsense  as  well. 

"An  agreeable  task  for  a  man  to  undertake  her  educa- 
tion," and  he  wished  that  he  had  time. 

Amaryllis  Ardayre  asked  again: 

"How  can  one  not  think?     I  am  always  thinking." 

He  smiled  indulgently. 

"Oh!  no,  you  are  not — you  only  imagine  that  you  are. 
You  have  questioned  nothing — you  do  right  generally  be- 
cause you  have  a  nice  character  and  have  been  well 
brought  up,  not  from  any  conscious  determination  to 
uplift  the  soul.  Yes — is  it  not  so?" 

She  was  startled. 

"Perhaps." 

"Do  you  ever  ask  yourself  what  things  mean?  What 
we  are — where  we  are  going?  What  is  the  end  of  it  all? 
No — you  are  happy;  you  live  from  day  to  day — and  yet 
you  cannot  be  a  very  young  ego,  your  eyes  are  too  wise — 
you  have  had  many  incarnations.  It  is  merely  that  in 
this  one  life  the  note  of  awakening  has  not  yet  been 
struck.  You  certainly  must  have  needed  sleep." 

"Many  lives?    You  believe  in  that  theory?" 

She  was  not  accustomed  to  discuss  unorthodox  sub- 
jects. She  was  interested. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  3 

"But  of  course — how  else  could  there  be  justice?  We 
draw  the  reflex  of  every  evil  action  and  of  every  good 
one,  but  sometimes  not  until  the  next  incarnation,  that 
is  why  the  heedless  ones  cannot  grasp  the  truth — they 
see  no  visible  result  of  either  good  or  evil — evil,  in  fact, 
seems  generally  to  win  if  there  is  a  balance  either  way." 

"Why  are  we  not  allowed  memory  then,  so  that  we 
might  profit  by  our  lessons?" 

"We  should  in  that  case  improve  from  self-interest 
and  not  have  our  faults  eliminated  by  suffering.  We 
are  given  no  conscious  memory  of  our  last  life,  so  we  go 
on  righting  for  whatever  desire  still  holds  us  until  its 
achievement  brings  such  overwhelming  pain  that  the  de- 
sire is  no  more." 

"Why  do  you  say  that  for  happiness  we  must  banish 
thought — that  seems  a  paradox." 

She  was  a  little  disturbed. 

"I  said  if  one  consciously  and  deliberately  desired  hap- 
piness, one  must  banish  thought  to  bring  oneself  back 
to  the  condition  of  hundreds  of  people  who  are  happy; 
many  of  them  are  even  elementals  without  souls  at  all. 
They  are  permitted  happiness  so  that  they  may  become 
so  attached  to  the  earth  plane  that  they  willingly  return 
and  gradually  obtain  a  soul.  But  no  one  who  is  allowed 
to  think  is  allowed  any  continued  happiness ;  there  would 
be  no  progress.  If  so,  we  should  remain  as  brutes." 

"Then  how  cruel  of  you  to  suggest  to  me  to  think.  I 
want  to  be  happy — perhaps  I  do  not  want  to  obtain  a 
soul." 

"That  was  born  long  ago — my  words  may  have  awak- 
ened it  once  more,  but  the  sleep  was  not  deep." 

Amaryllis  Ardayre  looked  at  the  crowds  passing  and  re- 
passing  in  those  stately  rooms. 


4  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"Tell  me,  who  is  that  woman  over  there?"  she  asked. 
"The  very  pretty  one  with  the  fair  hair  in  jade  green — 
she  looks  radiantly  happy." 

"And  is— she  is  frankly  an  animal— exquisitely  pre- 
served, damnably  selfish,  completely  devoid  of  in- 
tellect, sugar  manners,  the  senses  of  a  harem  houri — 
and  the  tenacity  of  a  rat." 

"You  are  severe." 

"Not  at  all.  Harietta  Boleski  is  a  product  of  that  most 
astonishing  nation  across  the  Atlantic — none  other  could 
produce  her.  It  is  the  hothouse  of  the  world  as  regards 
remarkable  types.  Here  for  immediate  ancestry  we  have 
a  mother,  from  heaven  knows  what  European  refuse 
heap,  arrived  in  an  immigrant  ship — father  of  the  'pore 
white  trash'  of  the  south — result:  Harietta,  fine  points, 
beautiful,  quite  a  lady  for  ordinary  purposes.  The  ab- 
sence of  soul  is  strikingly  apparent  to  any  ordinary  ob- 
server, but  one  only  discovers  the  vulgarity  of  spirit  if 
one  is  a  student  of  evolution — or  chances  to  catch  her 
when  irritated  with  her  modiste  or  her  maid.  Other  na- 
tions cannot  produce  such  beings.  Women  with  the  at- 
tributes of  Harietta,  were  they  European,  would  have 
surface  vulgarity  showing — and  so  be  out  of  the  running, 
or  they  would  have  real  passion  which  would  be  their  un- 
doing— passion  is  glorious — it  is  aroused  by  something 
beyond  the  physical.  Observe  her  nostril!  There  is 
simple,  delightful  animal  sensuality  for  you !  Look  also 
at  the  convex  curve  below  the  underlip — she  will  bite 
off  the  cherry  whether  it  is  hers  by  right  or  another's, 
and  devour  it  without  a  backward  thought." 

"Boleski — that  is  a  Russian  name,  is  it  not?" 

"No,  Polish — she  secured  our  Stanislass,  a  great  man 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  5 

in  his  country — last  year  in  Berlin,  having  divorced  a  no 
longer  required,  but  worthy  German  husband  who  had 
held  some  post  in  the  American  Consulate  there." 

"Is  that  old  man  standing  obediently  beside  her  your 
Stanislass? — he  looks  quite  cowed." 

"A  sad  sight,  is  it  not  ?  Stanislass,  though,  is  not  old, 
barely  forty.  He  had  a  beguin  for  her.  She  put  his 
intelligence  to  sleep  and  bamboozled  his  judgment  with 
a  continuous  appeal  to  the  senses ;  she  has  vampired  him 
now.  Cloying  all  his  will  with  her  sugared  caprices,  she 
makes  him  scenes  and  so  keeps  him  in  subjection.  He 
was  one  of  the  Council  de  1'Empire  for  Poland ;  the  aims 
of  his  country  were  his  earnest  work,  but  now  ambition 
is  no  more.  He  is  tired,  he  has  ceased  to  struggle ;  she 
rules  and  eats  his  soul  as  she  has  eaten  the  souls  of 
others.  Shall  I  present  her  to  you?  As  a  type,  she  is 
worthy  of  your  attention." 

"It  sounds  as  if  she  had  the  evil  eye,  as  the  Italians 
say,"  Amaryllis  shuddered. 

"Only  for  men.  She  is  really  an  amiable  creature — 
women  like  her.  She  is  so  frankly  simple,  since  for  her 
there  are  never  two  issues — only  to  be  allowed  her  own 
desires — a  riot  of  extravagance,  the  first  place — and  some 
one  to  gratify  certain  instincts  without  too  many  refine- 
ments when  the  mood  takes  her.  For  the  rest,  she  is 
kind  and  good-natured  and  'jolly,'  as  you  English  say, 
and  has  no  notion  that  she  is  a  road  to  hell.  But  they 
are  mostly  dead,  her  other  spider  mates,  and  cannot 
tell  of  it." 

"I  am  much  interested.  I  should  like  to  talk  to  her. 
You  say  that  she  is  happy?" 

"Obviously — she  is  an  elemental — she  never  thinks  at 


6  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

all,  except  to  plan  some  further  benefit  for  herself.  I  do 
not  believe  in  this  life  that  she  can  obtain  a  soul — her 
only  force  is  her  tenacious  will." 

"Such  force  is  good,  though?" 

"Certainly.  Even  bad  force  is  better  than  negative 
Good.  One  must  first  be  strong  before  one  can  be 
serene." 

"You  are  strong." 

"Yes,  but  not  good.  Hardly  a  fit  companion  for  sweet 
little  English  brides  with  excellent  husbands  awaiting 
them." 

"I  shall  judge  of  that." 

"Tiens!    So  emancipated!" 

"If  you  are  bad,  how  does  your  theory  work  that  we 
pay  for  each  action?  Since  by  that  you  must  know  that 
it  cannot  be  worth  while  to  be  bad." 

"It  is  not — I  am  aware  of  it,  but  when  I  am  bad  I  am 
bad  deliberately,  knowing  that  I  must  pay." 

"That  seems  stupid  of  you." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  take  very  severe  exercise  when  I  begin  to  think  of 
things  I  should  not  and  I  become  savage  when  I  require 
happiness — now  is  our  chance  for  making  you  acquainted 
with  Harietta,  she  is  moving  our  way." 

Madame  Boleski  swept  towards  them  on  the  arm  of 
an  Austrian  Prince  and  the  Russian  Verisschenzko  said, 
with  suave  politeness : 

"Madame,  let  me  present  you  to  Lady  Ardayre.  With 
me  she  has  been  admiring  you  from  afar." 

The  two  women  bowed,  and  with  cheery,  disarming 
simplicity,  the  American  made  some  gracious  remarks  in 
a  voice  which  sounded  as  if  she  smoked  too  much ;  it  was 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  7 

not  disagreeable  in  tone,  nor  had  she  a  pronounced  Amer- 
ican accent. 

Amaryllis  Ardayre  found  herself  interested.  She  ad- 
mired the  superb  attention  to  detail  shown  in  Madame 
Boleski's  whole  person.  Her  face  was  touched  up  with 
the  lightest  art,  not  overdone  in  any  way.  Her  hair,  of 
that  very  light  tone  bordering  on  gold,  which  sometimes 
goes  with  hazel  eyes,  was  quite  natural  and  wonderfully 
done.  Her  dress  was  perfection — so  were  her  jewels. 
One  saw  that  her  corsetiere  was  an  artist,  and  that  every- 
thing had  cost  a  great  deal  of  money.  She  had  taken 
off  one  glove  and  Amaryllis  saw  her  bare  hand — it  was 
well-shaped,  save  that  the  thumb  turned  back  in  a  re- 
markable degree. 

"So  delighted  to  meet  you,"  Madame  Boleski  said. 
"We  are  going  over  to  London  next  month  and  I  am 
just  crazy  to  know  more  of  you  delicious  English  people." 

They  chatted  for  a  few  moments  and  then  Madame 
Boleski  swept  onwards.  She  was  quite  stately  and 
graceful  and  had  a  well-poised  head.  Amaryllis  turned 
to  the  Russian  and  was  startled  by  the  expression  of 
fierce,  sardonic  amusement  in  his  yellow-green  eyes. 

"But  surely,  she  can  see  that  you  are  laughing  at  her  ?" 
she  exclaimed,  astonished. 

"It  would  convey  nothing  to  her  if  she  did." 

"But  you  looked  positively  wicked." 

"Possibly — I  feel  it  sometimes  when  I  think  of  Stanis- 
lass;  he  was  a  very  good  friend  of  mine." 

Sir  John  Ardayre  joined  them  at  this  moment  and  the 
three  walked  towards  the  supper  room  and  the  Russian 
said  good-night. 

"It  is  not  good-bye,  Madame.     I,  too,  shall  be  in  your 


8  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

country  soon  and  I  also  hope  that  I  may  see  you  again 
before  you  leave  Paris." 

They  arranged  a  dinner  for  the  following  night  but 
one,  and  said  au  revoir. 

An  hour  later  the  Russian  was  seated  in  a  huge  English 
leather  chair  in  the  little  salon  of  his  apartment  in  the 
rue  Cambon,  when  Madame  Boleski  very  softly  entered 
the  room  and  sat  down  upon  his  knee. 

"I  had  to  come,  darling  Brute,"  she  said.  "I  was 
jealous  of  the  English  girl,"  and  she  fitted  her  delicately 
painted  lips  to  his.  "Stanislass  wanted  to  talk  over  his 
new  scheme  for  Poland,  too,  and  as  you  know  that  al- 
ways gets  on  my  nerves." 

But  Verisschenzko  threw  his  head  back  impatiently, 
nrhile  he  answered  roughly. 

"I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  your  chastisement  to-night. 
Go  back  as  you  came.  I  am  thinking  of  something  real, 
something  which  makes  your  body  of  no  use  to  me — it 
wearies  me  and  I  do  not  even  desire  your  presence. 
Begone !" 

Then  he  kissed  her  neck  insolently  and  pushed  her  off 
his  knee. 

She  pouted  resentfully.  But  suddenly  her  eyes  caught 
a  small  case  lying  on  a  table  near — and  an  eager  gleam 
came  into  their  hazel  depths. 

"Oh,  Stepan!  Is  it  the  ruby  thing!  Oh!  You  be- 
loved angel,  you  are  going  to  give  it  to  me  after  all ! 
Oh !  I'll  rush  off  at  once  and  leave  you,  if  you  wish  it ! 
Good-night!" 

And  when  she  was  gone  Verisschenzko  threw  some  in- 
cense into  a  silver  burner  and  as  the  clouds  of  perfume 
rose  into  the  air: 

"Wough!"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  II 

"What  are  you  doing  in  Paris,  Denzil?" 

"I  came  over  for  a  bit  of  racing.  Awfully  glad  to 
see  you,  Can't  we  dine  together  ?  I  go  back  to-morrow." 
Verisschenzko  put  his  arm  through  Denzil  Ardayre's  and 
drew  him  in  to  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  at  the  door  of  which 
they  had  chanced  to  meet. 

"I  had  another  guest,  but  she  can  be  consoled  with 
some  of  Midas'  food,  and  I  want  to  talk  to  you;  were 
you  going  to  eat  alone?" 

"A  fellow  threw  me  over;  I  meant  to  have  just  a  snack 
and  go  on  to  a  theatre.  It  is  good  running  across  you — 
I  thought  you  were  miles  away !" 

Verisschenzko  spoke  to  the  head  waiter,  and  gave  him 
directions  as  to  the  disposal  of  the  lovely  lady  who  would 
presently  arrive,  and  then  he  went  on  to  his  table,  rather 
at  the  top,  in  a  fairly  secluded  corner. 

The  few  people  who  were  already  dining — it  was  early 
on  this  May  night — looked  at  Denzil  Ardayre — he  was 
such  a  refreshing  sight  of  health  and  youth,  so  tall  and 
fit  and  English,  with  his  brown  smooth  head  and  fearless 
blue  eyes,  gay  and  debonnaire.  One  could  see  that  he 
played  cricket  and  polo,  and  any  other  game  that  came 
along,  and  that  not  a  muscle  of  his  frame  was  out  of 
condition.  He  had  "soldier"  written  upon  him — young, 
gallant,  cavalry  soldier.  Verisschenzko  appreciated  him; 
nothing  complete,  human  or  inanimate,  left  him  uncon- 
scious of  its  meaning.  They  knew  one  another  very  well 
9 


10 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 


—they  had  been  at  Oxford  and  later  had  shot  bears  to- 
gether  in  the  Russian's  far-off  home. 

They  talked  for  a  while  of  casual  things,  and  then 
Verisschenzko  said: 

"Some  relations  of  yours  are  here— Sir  John  Ardayre 
and  his  particularly  attractive  bride.  Shall  we  eat  what 
I  had  ordered  for  Collette,  or  have  you  other  fancies 
after  the  soup?" 

Denzil  paid  only  attention  to  the  first  part  of  the 
speech — he  looked  surprised  and  interested. 

"John  Ardayre  here!  Of  course,  he  married  about 
ten  days  ago — he  is  the  head  of  the  family  as  you  are 
aware,  but  I  hardly  even  know  him  by  sight.  He  is 
quite  ten  years  older  than  I  am  and  does  not  trouble 
about  us,  the  poor  younger  branch — "  and  he  smiled, 
showing  such  good  teeth.  "Besides,  as  you  know,  I  have 
been  for  such  a  long  time  in  India,  and  the  leaves  were 
for  sport,  not  for  hunting  up  relations." 

Verisschenzko  did  not  press  the  matter  of  his  guest's 
fancies  in  food,  and  they  continued  the  menu  ordered 
for  Collette  without  further  delay. 

"I  want  to  hear  all  that  you  know  about  them,  the  girl 
is  an  exquisite  thing  with  immense  possibilities.  Sir 
John  looks — dull." 

"He  is  really  a  splendid  character  though,"  Denzil  has- 
tened to  assure  him.  "Do  you  know  the  family  history? 
But  no,  of  course  not,  we  were  too  busy  in  the  old  days 
enjoying  life  to  trouble  to  talk  of  such  things!  Well, 
it  is  rather  strange  in  the  last  generation — things  very 
nearly  came  to  an  end  and  John  has  built  it  all  up  again. 
You  are  interested  in  heredity?" 

"Naturally — what  is  the  story?" 

"Our  mutual  great-grandfather  was  a  tremendous  per- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  n 

sonage  in  North  Somerset — the  place  Ardayre  is  there. 
My  father  was  the  son  of  the  younger  son,  who  had  just 
enough  to  do  him  decently  at  Eton,  and  enable  him  to 
scrape  along  in  the  old  regiment  with  a  pony  or  two  to 
play  with.  My  mother  was  a  Willowbrook,  as  you  know, 
and  a  considerable  heiress,  that  is  how  I  come  out  all 
right,  but  until  John's  father,  Sir  James,  squandered 
things,  the  head  of  the  family  was  always  very  rich  and 
full  of  land — and  awfully  set  on  the  dignity  of  his  race. 
They  had  turned  the  cult  of  it  into  regular  religion." 

"The  father  of  this  man  made  a  gaspillage,  then — 
well?" 

"Yes,  he  was  a  rotter — a  hark-back  to  his  mother's  re- 
lations ;  she  was  a  Cranmote — they  ruin  any  blood  they 
mix  with.  I  am  glad  that  I  come  from  the  generation 
before." 

Denzil  helped  himself  to  a  Russian  salad,  and  went  on 
leisurely.  "He  fortunately  married  Lady  Mary  de  la 
Paule — who  was  a  saint,  and  so  John  seems  to  have 
righted,  and  takes  after  her.  She  died  quite  early,  she 
had  had  enough  of  Sir  James,  I  expect,  he  had  gambled 
away  everything  he  could  lay  hands  upon.  Poor  John 
was  brought  up  with  a  tutor  at  home,  for  some  reason — 
hard  luck  on  a  man.  He  was  only  about  thirteen  when 
she  died  and  at  seventeen  went  straight  into  the  city.  He 
was  determined  to  make  a  fortune,  it  has  always  been 
said,  and  redeem  the  mortgages  on  Ardayre — very  splen- 
did of  him,  wasn't  it?" 

"Yes — well  all  this  is  not  out  of  the  ordinary  line — 
what  comes  next?" 

Denzil  laughed — he  was  not  a  good  raconteur. 

"The  poor  lady  was  no  sooner  dead  than  the  old  boy 
married  a  Bulgarian  snake  charmer,  whom  he  had  picked 


12  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

up  in  Constantinople !  You  may  well  smile"— for  Veris- 
schenzko  had  raised  his  eyebrows  in  a  whimsical  way—- 
this did  sound  such  a  highly  coloured  incident ! 

"It  was  an  unusual  sort  of  thing  to  do,  I  admit,  but 
the  tale  grows  more  lurid  still,  when  I  tell  you  that  five 
months  after  the  wedding  she  produced  a  son  by  the  Lord 
knows  who,  one  of  her  own  tribe  probably,  and  old  Sir 
James  was  so  infatuated  with  her  that  he  never  protested, 
and  presently  when  he  and  John  quarrelled  like  hell  he 
pretended  the  little  brute  was  his  own  child — just  to 
spite  John." 

Verisschenzko's  Calmuck  eyes  narrowed. 

"And  does  this  result  of  the  fusion  of  snake  charmers 
figure  in  the  family  history?  I  believe  I  have  met  him — 
his  name  is  Ferdinand,  is  it  not,  and  he  is,  or  was,  in 
some  business  in  Constantinople?" 

"That  is  the  creature — he  was  brought  up  at  Ardayre 
as  though  he  were  the  heir,  and  poor  John  turned  out 
of  things.  He  came  to  Eton  three  years  before  I  left, 
but  even  there  they  could  not  turn  him  into  the  outside 
semblance  of  a  gentleman.  I  loathed  the  little  toad,  and 
he  loathed  me — and  the  sickening  part  of  the  thing  is 
that  if  John  does  not  have  a  son,  by  the  English  law  of 
entail  Ferdinand  comes  into  Ardayre,  and  will  be  the 
head  of  the  family.  Old  Sir  James  died  about  five  years 
ago,  always  protesting  this  bastard  was  his  own  child, 
though  every  one  knew  it  was  a  lie.  However,  by  that 
time  John  had  made  enough  in  the  city  to  redeem  Ar- 
dayre twice  over.  He  had  tremendous  luck  after  the 
South  African  War,  so  he  came  into  possession  and  lives 
there  now  in  great  state — I  do  really  hope  that  he  will 
have  a  son." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  13 

"You,  too,  have  the  instinct  of  the  family,  then — this 
pride  in  it — since  it  cannot  benefit  you  either  way." 

"I  believe  it  is  born  in  us,  and  though  I  have  never 
seen  Ardayre,  I  should  hate  this  mongrel  to  have  it.  I 
was  brought  up  with  a  tremendous  reverence  for  it,  even 
as  a  second  cousin." 

"Well,  the  new  Lady  Ardayre  looks  young  enough  and 
of  a  health  to  have  ten  sons!" 

"Y-es,"  Denzil  acquiesced  in  a  tentative  tone. 

"Not  so?"  Verisschenzko  glanced  up  surprised,  and 
then  gave  his  attention  to  the  waiter  who  had  brought 
some  Burgundy  and  was  pouring  it  out  into  his  glass. 

"Not  so  you  would  say?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  have  never  seen  her — but  in  the  fam- 
ily it  is  whispered  that  John — poor  devil — he  had  an 
accident  hunting  two  or  three  years  ago.  However,  it 
may  not  any  of  it  be  true — here,  let  us  drink  to  the 
Ardayre  son!" 

"To  the  Ardayre  son!"  and  Verisschenzko  filled  his 
friend's  glass  with  the  decanted  wine  and  they  both  drank 
together. 

"Your  cousin  is  like  you,"  he  said  presently.  "A 
fatiguing  likeness,  but  the  same  height  and  make — and 
voice — strange  things  these  family  reproductions  of  an 
exact  type.  I  have  no  family,  as  you  know — we  are  of 
the  people,  arisen  by  trade  to  riches.  Could  I  go  beyond 
my  immediate  parents,  could  I  know  cousins  and  uncles 
and  brothers,  should  I  find  this  same  peculiar  stamp  of 
family  among  us  all?  Who  knows?  I  think  not." 

"I  suppose  there  is  something  in  it.  My  father  has 
told  me  that  in  the  picture  gallery  at  Ardayre  they  are 
as  like  as  two  pins  the  whole  way  down." 


I4  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"The  concentration  upon  the  idea  causes  it.  In  people 
risen  like  my  father  and  myself,  we  only  resemble  a 
group— a  nation;  if  I  have  children  they  will  resemble 
me.  It  is  strength  in  the  beginning  when  an  individual 
rises  beyond  the  group,  which  produces  a  type.  One 
says  'English'  to  look  at  you,  and  then,  if  one  knows,  one 
says  'Ardayre'  at  once ;  one  gets  as  far  as  'Calmuck'  with 
me,  that  is  all,  but  in  years  to  come  it  will  have  developed 
into  'Verisschenzko.' " 

"How  you  study  things,  Stepan;  you  are  always  put- 
ting new  ideas  into  my  head  whenever  I  see  you.  Life 
would  be  just  a  routine,  for  all  the  joy  of  sport,  if  one 
did  not  think.  I  am  going  to  finish  my  soldiering  this 
autumn  and  stand  for  Parliament.  It  seems  waste  of 
time  now,  with  no  wars  in  prospect,  sticking  to  it ;  I  want 
a  vaster  field." 

"You  think  there  can  be  no  wars  in  prospect — no? 
Well,  who  can  prophesy?  There  are  clouds  in  the 
Southeast,  but  for  the  moment  we  will  not  speculate 
about  them — and  they  may  affect  my  country  and  not 
yours.  And  so  you  will  settle  down  and  become  a  repu- 
table member  of  Parliament?"  Then,  as  Denzil  would 
have  spoken  perhaps  upon  the  subject  of  war  clouds, 
Verisschenzko  hastily  continued : 

"Will  you  dine  to-morrow  night  at  the  Ritz  to  meet 
your  cousin  and  his  wife?  They  are  honouring  me." 

"I  wish  I  could,  but  I  am  off  in  the  morning.  What 
is  she  like?" 

Verisschenzko  paid  particular  attention  to  the  selection 
of  a  quail,  and  then  he  answered: 

"She  is  of  the  same  type  as  the  family,  Denzil, — that 
is,  a  good  skeleton — bones  in  the  right  place,  firm  white 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  15 

flesh,  colouring  as  yours — well  bred,  balanced,  una wak- 
ened as  yet.  Was  she  a  relation?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  so — a  cousin  of  a  generation  even  be- 
fore mine.  I  wish  I  could  have  dined,  I  would  awfully 
like  to  have  met  them ;  I  shall  have  to  make  a  chance  in 
England.  It  is  stupid  not  to  know  one's  own  family,  but 
our  fathers  quarrelled  and  we  have  never  had  a  chance  of 
mending  the  break." 

"They  were  at  the  Russian  Embassy  last  night;  the 
throng  admired  Lady  Ardayre  very  much." 

"And  what  are  you  doing  in  Paris,  Stepan?  The  last 
I  heard  of  you,  you  were  on  your  yacht  in  the  Black 
Sea." 

"I  was  cruising  near  countries  whose  internal  affairs 
interest  me  for  the  moment.  I  returned  to  my  apparte- 
ment  in  Paris  to  see  a  friend  of  mine,  Stanislass  Boleski 
— he  also  has  a  lovely  wife.  Look,  she  has  just  come  in 
with  him.  She  is  in  the  devil  of  a  temper — observe  her. 
If  I  sit  back,  the  pillar  hides  me — I  do  not  wish  them 
to  see  me  yet." 

Denzil  glanced  down  the  room ;  two  people  were  taking 
their  seats  by  the  wall.  The  mask  was  off  Harietta 
Boleski's  face  for  the  moment;  it  looked  silly  with  its 
raised  eyebrows  and  was  full  of  ill  temper  and  spite. 
The  husband  had  an  air  of  extreme  worry  on  his  clever, 
intellectual  face,  but  that  he  was  solicitous  to  gratify  his 
wife's  caprices,  any  casual  observer  could  have  perceived. 

"You  mean  the  woman  with  the  wonderful  aigrettes 
— she  is  good-looking,  isn't  she?  I  wonder  who  it  is  she 
has  caught  sight  of  now,  though?  Look  at  the  eagerness 
which  has  come  into  her  eyes — you  can  see  her  in  the 
mirror  if  you  want  to." 


16  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

But  Verisschenzko  had  missed  nothing,  and  he  bent 
forward  to  endeavour  to  identify  the  person  upon  whom 
Madame  Boleski's  gaze  had  turned.  There  was  nothing 
to  distinguish  any  individual — the  company  were  of  sev- 
eral nations— German  and  Austrian  and  Balkan  and  Rus- 
sian scattered  about  here  and  there  among  the  French 
and  American  habitues.  The  only  plan  would  be  to  con- 
tinue to  watch  Harietta — but  although  he  did  this 
throughout  the  dinner,  not  a  flicker  of  her  eyelids  gave 
him  any  further  clue. 

Denzil  was  interested — he  felt  something  beyond  what 
appeared  on  the  surface  was  taking  place,  so  he  waited 
for  his  friend  to  speak. 

Verisschenzko  was  silent  for  a  little,  and  then  he  casu- 
ally gave  a  resume  of  the  character  and  place  of  Madame 
Boleski  and  her  husband,  a  good  deal  more  baldly  ex- 
pressed, but  in  substance  much  the  same  as  he  had  given 
to  Amaryllis  at  the  Russian  Embassy  the  night  before. 

He  spoke  lightly,  but  his  yellow  green  eyes  were  keen. 

"Look  at  her  well — she  is  capable  of  mischief.  Her 
extreme  stupidity — only  the  brain  of  a  rodent  or  a  goat — 
makes  her  more  difficult  to  manipulate  than  the  cleverest 
diplomat,  because  you  can  never  be  sure  whether  the 
blank  want  of  understanding  which  she  displays  is  real 
or  simulated.  She  is  a  perfect  actress,  but  very  often  is 
quite  natural.  Most  women  are  either  posing  all  the 
time,  or  not  at  all.  Harietta's  miming  only  comes  into 
action  for  self-preservation,  or  personal  gain,  and  then  it 
is  of  such  a  superb  quality  that  she  leaves  even  me — I, 
who  am  no  poor  diviner — confused  as  to  whether  she  is 
telling  a  lie  or  the  truth." 

"What  an  exceptional  character !"    Denzil  was  thrilled. 

"An  absence  of  all  moral  sense  is  her  great  power," 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  17 

Verisschenzko  continued,  while  he  watched  her  narrowly, 
"because  she  never  has  any  of  the  prickings  of  conscience 
which  even  most  rogues  experience  at  times,  and  so  draws 
no  demagnetising  nervous  uncertain  currents.  If  it  were 
not  for  an  insatiable  extravagance,  and  a  capricious  fancy 
for  different  jewels,  she  would  be  impossible  to  deal  with. 
She  has  information,  obtained  from  what  source  I  do 
not  as  yet  know,  which  is  of  vital  importance  to  me. 
Were  it  not  for  that,  one  could  simply  enjoy  her  as  a 
mistress  and  take  delight  in  studying  her  idiosyn- 
crasies." 

"She  has  lovers?" 

"Has  had  many;  her  role  now  is  that  of  a  great  lady 
and  so  all  is  of  a  respectability.  She  is  so  stupid  that  if 
that  instinct  of  self-preservation  were  not  so  complete  as 
to  be  like  a  divine  guide,  she  would  commit  betises  all 
the  time.  As  it  is,  when  she  takes  a  lover  it  is  hidden 
with  the  cunning  of  a  fox." 

"Who  did  you  say  the  first  husband  was — ?" 

"A  German  of  the  name  of  Von  Wendel — he  used  to 
beat  her  with  a  stick,  it  is  said — so  naturally  such  a  nature 
adored  him.  I  did  not  meet  her  until  she  had  got  rid 
of  him  and  he  had  disappeared.  She  would  sacrifice  any 
one  who  stood  in  her  way." 

"Your  friend,  the  present  husband,  looks  pretty  epuise 
— one  feels  sorry  for  the  poor  man." 

Then,  as  ever,  at  the  mention  of  the  debacle  of  Stanis- 
lass,  Verisschenzko's  eyes  filled  with  a  fierce  light. 

"She  has  crushed  the  hope  of  Poland — for  that,  indeed, 
one  day  she  must  pay." 

"But  I  thought  you  Russians  did  not  greatly  love  the 
Poles?"  Denzil  remarked. 

"Enlightened  Russians  can  see  beyond  their  old  preju- 


i8  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

dices — and  Stanislass  was  a  lifetime  friend.  One  day  a 
new  dawn  will  come  for  our  Northern  world." 

His  eyes  grew  dreamy  for  an  instant,  and  then  resumed 
their  watch  of  Harietta.  Denzil  looked  at  him  and  did 
not  speak  for  a  while.  He  had  always  been  drawn  to 
Stepan,  from  a  couple  of  terms  at  Oxford  before  the 
Russian  was  sent  down  for  a  mad  freak,  and  did  not  re- 
turn. He  was  such  a  mixture  of  idealism  and  brutal 
commonsense,  a  brain  so  alert  and  the  warm  heart  of  a 
generous  child — capable  of  every  frenzy  and  of  every 
sacrifice.  They  had  planned  great  things  for  their  after- 
lives before  the  one  joined  his  regiment,  and  learned  dis- 
cipline, and  the  other  wandered  over  many  lands — and  as 
they  sat  there  in  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  the  thoughts  of  both 
wandered  back  to  old  days  gapping  the  encounters  for 
sport  in  Russia  and  in  India  between. 

"They  were  glorious  times,  Denzil,  weren't  they?" 
Verisschenzko  said  presently,  aware  by  that  wonderfully 
delicately  attuned  faculty  of  his  of  what  his  friend  was 
thinking.  "We  had  thought  to  conquer  the  sun,  moon 
and  stars — and  who  knows,  perhaps  we  will  yet!" 

"Who  knows?  I  feel  my  real  life  is  only  just  begin- 
ning. How  old  are  we,  Stepan?  Twenty-nine  years 
old!" 

Afterwards,  as  they  went  out,  they  passed  the  Boleskis 
close,  and  the  two  rose  and  spoke  to  Verisschenzko,  with 
empressement.  He  introduced  Captain  Ardayre  and 
they  talked  for  a  few  minutes,  Harietta  Boleski  all  smiles 
and  flattering  cajoleries  now— and  then  they  said  good- 
night and  went  out. 

But  as  Stepan  passed,  a  man  half  hidden  behind  a  pil- 
lar leaned  forward  and  looked  at  him,  and  in  his  light 
blue  eyes  there  burned  a  jealous  hate. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  19 

"Ah,  Gott  in  Himmel !"  he  growled  to  himself.  "It  is 
he  whom  she  loves — not  the  pig-fool  who  we  gave  her 
to — one  day  I  shall  kill  him — "  and  he  raised  his  glass  of 
Rhine  wine  and  murmured  "Der  Tag!" 

That  evening  Sir  John  Ardayre  had  taken  his  bride 
to  dine  in  the  Bois,  and  they  were  sitting  listening  to  the 
Tziganes  at  Armenonville.  Amaryllis  was  conscious  that 
the  evening  lacked  something.  The  circumstances  were 
interesting — a  bride  of  ten  days,  and  the  environment  so 
illuminating — and  yet  there  was  John  smoking  an  expen- 
sive cigar  and  not  saying  anything!  She  did  not  like 
people  who  chattered — and  she  could  even  imagine  a 
delicious  silence  wrought  with  meaning.  But  a  stolid  re- 
spectable silence  with  Tziganes  playing  moving  airs  and 
the  romantic  background  of  this  Paris  out-of-door  joyous 
night  life,  surely  demanded  some  show  of  emotion! 

John  loved  her  she  supposed — of  course  he  did — or  he 
never  would  have  asked  her  to  marry  him,  rich  as  he  was 
and  poor  as  she  had  been.  She  could  not  help  going  over 
all  their  acquaintance ;  the  date  of  its  beginning  was  only 
three  months  back ! 

They  had  met  at  a  country  house  and  had  played  golf 
together,  and  then  they  had  met  again  a  month  later  at 
another  house,  in  March,  but  she  could  not  remember 
any  love-making — she  could  not  remember  any  of  those 
warm  looks  and  those  surreptitious  hand-clasps  when  oc- 
casion was  propitious,  which  Elsie  Goldmore  had  told  her 
men  were  so  prodigal  of  in  demonstrating  when  they  fell 
in  love.  Indeed,  she  had  seen  emotion  upon  the  faces  of 
quite  two  or  three  young  men,  for  all  her  secluded  life 
and  restricted  means,  since  she  had  left  the  school  in 
Dresden,  where  a  worldly  maiden  aunt  had  pinched  to 
send  her.  German  officers  had  looked  at  her  there  with 


20  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

interest  in  the  street,  and  the  clergyman's  three  sons  and 
the  Squire's  two,  when  she  returned  home.  Indeed,  Tom 
Clarke  had  gone  further  than  this!  He  had  kissed  her 
cheek  coming  out  of  the  door  in  the  dark  one  evening, 
and  had  received  a  severe  rebuff  for  his  pains. 

She  had  read  quantities  of  novels,  ancient  and  modern. 
She  knew  that  love  was  a  wonderful  thing;  she  knew 
also  that  modern  life  and  its  exigencies  had  created  a 
new  and  far  more  matter-of-fact  point  of  view  about  it 
than  that  which  was  obtained  in  most  books.  She  did 
not  expect  much,  and  had  indulged  in  none  of  those  vi- 
sions of  romantic  bliss  which  girls  were  once  supposed 
to  spend  their  time  in  constructing.  But  she  did  expect 
something,  and  here  was  nothing — just  nothing! 

The  day  John  had  asked  her  to  marry  him  he  had  not 
been  much  moved.  He  had  put  the  question  to  her  sim- 
ply and  calmly,  and  she  had  not  dreamed  of  refusing 
him.  It  was  obviously  her  duty,  and  it  had  always  been 
her  intention  to  marry  well,  if  the  chance  came  her  way, 
and  so  leave  a  not  too  congenial  home. 

She  had  been  to  a  few  London  balls  with  the  maiden 
aunt,  a  personage  of  some  prestige  and  character.  But 
invitations  do  not  flow  to  a  penniless  young  woman  from 
the  country,  nor  do  partners  flock  to  be  presented  to 
strangers  in  those  days,  and  Amaryllis  had  spent  many 
humiliating  hours  as  a  wall-flower  and  had  grown  to  hate 
balls.  She  was  not  expansive  in  herself  and  did  not 
make  friends  easily,  and  pretty  as  she  was,  as  a  girl,  luck 
did  not  come  her  way. 

When  she  had  said  "Yes"  in  as  matter-of-fact  a  voice 
as  the  proposal  of  marriage  had  been  made  to  her,  Sir 
John  had  replied:  "You  are  a  dear,"  and  that  had 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  21 

seemed  to  her  a  most  ordinary  remark.  He  had  leaned 
over — they  were  climbing  a  steep  pitch  in  search  of  a 
fugitive  golf  ball — and  had  taken  her  hand  respectfully, 
and  then  he  had  kissed  her  forehead — or  her  ear — she 
forgot  which — nothing  which  mattered  much,  or  gave  her 
any  thrill ! 

"I  hope  I  shall  make  you  happy,"  he  had  added.  "I  am 
a  d*»ll  sort  of  a  fellow,  but  I  will  try." 

Then  they  had  talked  of  the  usual  things  that  they 
talked  about,  the  most  every-day, — and  they  had  re- 
ttt!  ned  to  the  house,  and  by  the  evening  every  one  knew 
of  the  engagement,  and  she  was  congratulated  on  all 
sides,  and  petted  by  the  hostess,  and  she  and  John  were 
left  ostentatiously  alone  in  a  smaller  drawing-room  after 
dinner,  and  there  was  not  a  grain  of  excitement  in  the 
whole  conventional  thing! 

There  was  always  a  shadow,  too,  in  John's  blue  eyes. 
He  was  the  most  reserved  creature  in  this  world,  she 
supposed.  That  might  be  all  very  well,  but  what  was  the 
good  of  being  so  reserved  with  the  woman  you  liked  well 
enough  to  make  your  wife,  if  it  made  you  never  able 
to  get  beyond  talking  on  general  subjects! 

This  she  had  asked  herself  many  times  and  had  de- 
termined to  break  down  the  reserve.  But  John  never 
changed  and  he  was  always  considerate  and  polite  and 
perfectly  at  ease.  He  would  talk  quietly  and  with  com- 
monsense  to  whoever  he  was  placed  next,  and  very  sel- 
dom a  look  of  interest  flickered  in  his  eyes.  Indeed, 
Amaryllis  had  never  seen  him  really  interested  until  he 
spoke  of  Ardayre — then  his  very  voice  altered. 

He  spoke  of  his  home  often  to  her  during  their  engage- 
ment, and  she  grew  to  know  that  it  was  something  sacred 


22  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

to  him,  and  that  the  Family  and  its  honour,  and  its  tradi- 
tions, meant  more  to  him  than  any  individual  person 
could  ever  do. 

She  almost  became  jealous  of  it  all. 

Her  trousseau  was  quite  nice — the  maiden  aunt  had 
seen  to  that.  Her  niece  had  done  well  and  she  did  not 
grudge  her  pinchings. 

Amaryllis  felt  triumphant  as  she  walked  up  the  aisle 
of  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square,  on  the  arm  of  a  scape- 
grace sailor  uncle — she  would  not  allow  her  stepfather 
to  give  her  away. 

Every  one  was  so  pleased  about  the  wedding!  An 
Ardayre  married  to  an  Ardayre !  Good  blood  on  both 
sides  and  everything  suitable  and  rich  and  prosperous, 
and  just  as  it  should  be !  And  there  stood  her  hand- 
some, stolid  bridegroom,  serenely  calm — and  the  white 
flowers,  and  the  Bishop — and  her  silver  brocade  train— 
and  the  pages,  and  the  bridesmaids.  Oh !  yes,  a  wedding 
was  a  most  agreeable  thing ! 

And  could  she  have  penetrated  into  the  thoughts  of 
John  Ardayre,  this  is  the  prayer  she  would  have  heard, 
as  he  knelt  there  beside  her  at  the  altar  rails :  "Oh,  God, 
keep  the  axe  from  falling  yet,  give  me  a  son." 

The  most  curious  emotions  of  excitement  rose  in  her 
when  they  went  off  in  the  smart  new  automobile  en  route 
for  that  inevitable  country  house  "lent  by  the  bride- 
groom's uncle,  the  Earl  de  la  Paule,  for  the  first  days 
of  the  honeymoon." 

This  particular  mansion  was  on  the  river,  only  two 
hours'  drive  from  her  aunt's  Charles  Street  door.  Now 
that  she  was  his  wife,  surely  John  would  begin  to  make 
love  to  her,  real  love,  kisses,  claspings,  and  what  not. 
For  Elsie  Goldmore  had  presumed  upon  their  schoolgirl 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  23 

friendship  and  been  quite  explicate  in  these  last  days, 
and  in  any  case  Amaryllis  was  not  a  miss  of  the  Victorian 
era.  The  feminine  world  has  grown  too  unrefined  in  the 
expression  of  its  private  affairs  and  too  indiscreet  for  any 
maiden  to  remain  in  ignorance  now. 

It  is  true  John  did  kiss  her  once  or  twice,  but  there 
was  no  real  warmth  in  the  embrace,  and  when,  after 
an  excellent  dinner  her  heart  began  to  beat  with  wonder- 
ment and  excitement,  she  asked  herself  what  it  meant. 
Then,  all  confused,  she  murmured  something  about 
"Good-night,"  and  retired  to  the  magnificent  state  suite 
alone. 

When  she  had  left  him  John  Ardayre  drank  down  a 
full  glass  of  Benedictine  and  followed  her  up  the  stairs, 
but  there  was  no  lover's  exaltation,  but  an  anguish  almost 
of  despair  in  his  eyes. 

Amaryllis  thought  of  that  night — and  of  other  nights 
since — as  she  sat  there  at  Armenonville,  in  the  luminous 
sensuous  dusk. 

So  this  was  being  married!  Well,  it  was  not  much 
of  a  joy — and  why,  why  did  John  sit  silent  there? 
Why? 

Surely  this  is  not  how  the  Russian  would  have  sat — • 
that  strange  Russian! 


CHAPTER  III 

It  was  nearing  sunset  in  the  garden  below  the  Trocad- 
ero.  A  tall  German  officer  waited  impatiently  not  far 
from  the  bronze  of  a  fierce  bull  in  a  secluded  corner 
under  the  trees ;  he  was  plainly  an  officer  although  he  was 
clothed  in  mufti  of  English  make.  He  was  a  singularly 
handsome  creature  in  spite  of  his  too  wide  hips.  A  fine, 
sensual,  brutal  male. 

He  swore  in  his  own  language,  and  then,  through  the 
glorious  light,  a  woman  came  towards  him.  She  wore 
an  unremarkable  overcoat  and  a  thick  veil. 

"Hans!"  she  exclaimed  delightedly,  and  then  went  on 
in  fluent  German  with  a  strong  American  accent. 

He  looked  round  to  be  sure  that  they  were  alone,  and 
then  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms.  He  held  her  so  tightly 
that  she  panted  for  breath;  he  kissed  her  until  her  lips 
were  bruised,  and  he  murmured  guttural  words  of  en- 
dearment that  sounded  like  an  animal's  growl. 

The  woman  answered  him  in  like  manner.  It  was  as 
though  two  brute  beasts  had  met. 

Then  presently  they  sat  upon  a  seat  and  talked  in  low 
tones.  The  woman  protested  and  declaimed;  the  man. 
grumbled  and  demanded.  An  envelope  passed  betweev 
them,  and  more  crude  caresses,  and  before  they  parted 
the  man  again  held  her  in  close  embrace — biting  the  lobe 
of  her  ear  until  she  gave  a  little  scream. 

"Yes — if  there  was  time — "  she  gasped  huskily.     "1 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  25 

should  adore  you  like  this — but  here — in  the  gardens — 
Oh !  do  mind  my  hat !" 

Then  he  let  her  go — they  had  arranged  a  future  meet- 
ing. And  left  alone,  he  sat  down  upon  the  bench  again 
and  laughed  aloud. 

The  woman  almost  ran  to  the  road  at  the  bottom  and 
jumped  into  a  waiting  taxi,  and  once  inside  she  brought 
out  a  gold  case  with  mirror  and  powder  puff,  and  red 
greases  for  her  lips. 

"My  goodness!  I  can't  say  that's  a  mosquito!"  and 
she  examined  her  ear.  "How  tiresome  and  imprudent 
of  Hans !  But  Jingo,  it  was  good ! — if  there  only  had 
been  time " 

Then  she,  too,  laughed  as  she  powdered  her  face, 
and  when  she  alighted  at  the  door  of  the  Hotel  du  Rhin, 
no  marks  remained  of  conflict  except  the  telltale  ear. 

But  on  encountering  her  maid,  she  was  carrying  her 
minute  Pekinese  dog  in  her  arms  and  was  beating  him 
well. 

"Regardez,  Marie !  la  vilaine  bete  m'a  mordu  1'oreil !" 

"Tiens!"  commented  the  affronted  Marie,  who  adored 
Fou-Chou.  "Et  le  cher  petit  chien  de  Madame  est  si 
doux !" 

Stanislass  Boleski  was  poring  over  a  voluminous  bun- 
dle of  papers  when  his  wife,  clad  in  a  diaphanous  wrap, 
came  into  his  sitting  room.  They  had  a  palatial  suite  at 
the  Rhin.  The  affairs  of  Poland  were  not  prospering  as 
he  had  hoped,  and  these  papers  required  his  supreme 
attention — there  was  German  intrigue  going  on  some- 
where underneath.  He  longed  for  Harietta's  sympathy 
which  she  had  been  so  prodigal  in  bestowing  before  she 
had  secured  her  divorce  from  that  brute  of  a  Teutonic 


26  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

husband,  whom  she  hated  so  much.  Now  she  hardly 
ever  listened,  and  yawned  in  his  face  when  he  spoke  of 
Poland  and  his  high  aims.  But  he  must  make  allow- 
ances for  her — she  was  such  a  child  of  impulse,  so  lovely, 
so  fascinating!  And  here  in  Paris,  admired  as  she  was, 
how  could  he  wonder  at  her  distraction! 

"Stanislass!  my  old  Stannic,"  she  cooed  in  his  ear, 
"what  am  I  to  wear  to-night  for  the  Montivacchini  ball? 
You  will  want  me  to  look  my  best,  I  know,  and  I  just 
love  to  please  you." 

He  was  all  attention  at  once,  pushing  the  documents 
aside  as  she  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  pulled 
his  beard,  then  she  drew  his  head  back  to  kiss  the  part 
where  the  hair  was  growing  thin  on  the  top — her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  papers. 

"You  don't  want  to  bother  with  those  tiresome  old 
things  any  more;  go  and  get  into  your  dressing-gown, 
and  come  to  my  room  and  talk  while  I  am  polishing  my 
nails, — we  can  have  half  an  hour  before  I  must  dress. 
I'll  wait  for  you  here — I  must  be  petted  to-night,  I  am 
tired  and  cross." 

Stanislass  Boleski  rose  with  alacrity.  She  had  not 
been  kind  to  him  for  days — fretful  and  capricious  and 
impossible  to  please.  He  must  not  lose  this  chance — 
if  it  could  only  have  been  when  he  was  not  so  busy — 
but— 

"Run  along,  do !"  she  commanded,  tapping  her  foot. 

And  putting  the  papers  hastily  in  a  drawer  with  a 
spring  lock,  he  went  gladly  from  the  room. 

Her  whole  aspect  changed;  she  lit  a  cigarette  and 
hummed  a  tune,  while  she  fingered  a  key  which  dangled 
from  her  bracelet. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  27 

No  one  eclipsed  Madame  Boleski  in  that  distinguished 
crowd  later  on.  Her  clinging  silver  brocade,  and  the  one 
red  rose  at  the  edge  of  the  extreme  decolletage,  were  sim- 
ply the  perfection  of  art.  She  did  not  wear  gloves,  and  on 
her  beautifully  manicured  hands  she  wore  no  rings  ex- 
cept a  magnificent  ruby  on  the  left  little  finger.  It  was 
her  caprice  to  refuse  an  alliance.  "Wedding  rings !"  she 
had  said  to  Stanislass.  "Bosh!  they  spoil  the  look. 
Sometimes  it  is  chic  to  have  a  good  jewel  on  one  finger, 
sometimes  on  another,  but  to  be  tied  down  to  that  band 
of  homely  gold !  Never !" 

Stanislass  had  argued  in  those  early  days — he  seldom 
argued  now. 

"My  love !"  he  cried,  as  she  burst  upon  his  infatuated 
vision,  when  ready  for  the  ball,  "let  me  admire  you !" 

She  turned  about ;  she  knew  that  she  was  perfection. 

Her  husband  kissed  her  fingers,  and  then  he  caught 
sight  of  the  ruby  ring.  He  examined  it. 

"I  had  not  seen  this  ruby  before,"  he  exclaimed  in  a 
surprised  voice,  "and  I  thought  I  knew  all  your  jewel 
case !" 

She  held  out  her  hand  while  her  big,  stupid,  appealing 
hazel  eyes  expressed  childish  innocence. 

"No — I'd  put  it  away,  it  was  of  other  days — but  I  do 
love  rubies,  and  so  I  got  it  out  to-night,  it  goes  with  my 
rose !" 

He  had  perceived  this.  Had  he  not  become  educated 
in  the  subtleties  of  a  woman's  apparel?  For  was  it  not 
his  duty  often,  and  his  pleasure  sometimes,  to  have  to 
assist  at  her  toilet,  and  to  listen  for  hours  to  discussions 
of  garments,  and  if  they  could  suit  or  not.  He  was  even 
accustomed  now  to  waiting  in  the  hot  salons  in  the  Rue 
de  la  Paix,  while  these  stately  perfections  were  being 


28  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

essayed.  But  the  ruby  ring  worried  him.  Why  had  she 
asked  him  to  give  her  just  such  a  one  only  last  month,  if 
she  already  possessed  its  fellow?  ...  He  had  refused 
because  her  extravagance  had  grown  fantastic,  but  he  had 
meant  to  cede  later.  Every  pleasure  of  the  senses  he 
always  had,  to  secure  by  bribes. 

"I  do  not  understand  why? — "  he  began,  but  she  put 
her  hand  over  his  mouth  and  then  kissed  him  voluptu- 
ously before  she  turned  and  shrilly  cried  to  Marie  to 
bring  her  ermine  cloak. 

The  maid's  eyes  were  round  and  sullen  with  resent- 
ment; she  had  not  forgotten  the  beating  of  Fou-Chou! 
"As  for  the  ear  of  Madame !"  she  said,  clasping  the  tiny 
dog  to  her  heart,  as  she  watched  her  mistress  go  towards 
the  lift  from  the  sitting-room,  "as  for  that  maudite  ear, 
thy  teeth  are  innocent,  my  angel!  But  I  wish  that  he 
who  is  guilty  had  bitten  it  off!"  Then  she  laughed 
disdainfully. 

"And  look  at  the  old  fool !  He  dreams  of  nothing ! 
And  if  he  dreamed,  he  would  not  beliere — such  insenses 
are  men !" 

Meanwhile  the  Boleskis  had  arrived  at  the  hotel  of 
the  Duchesse  di  Montivacchini,  that  rich  and  ravishing 
American-Italian,  who  gave  the  most  splendid  and  ex- 
clusive entertainments  in  Paris.  So,  too,  had  arrived 
Sir  John  and  Lady  Ardayre,  brought  on  from  the  dinner 
at  the  Ritz  by  Verisschenzko. 

Denzil  had  left  that  morning  for  England,  or  he  would 
have  had  the  disagreeable  experience  of  meeting  his 
soi-disant  cousin,  to  whom  he  had  applied  the  epithet 
"toad."  For  Ferdinand  Ardayre  had  just  reached  the 
gay  city  from  Constantinople,  and  had  also  come  to  the 
ball  with  a  friend  in  the  Turkish  Embassy. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  29 

He  happened  to  be  standing  at  the  door  when  the 
Boleskis  were  announced,  and  his  light  eyes  devoured 
Harietta — she  seemed  to  him  the  ideal  of  things  femi- 
nine— and  he  immediately  took  steps  to  be  presented. 
Assurance  was  one  of  his  strongest  cards.  He  was  a  fair 
man — with  the  fairness  of  a  Turk  not  European — and 
there  was  something  mean  and  chetive  in  his  regard.  He 
would  have  looked  over-dressed  and  un-English  in  a  Lon- 
don ball-room,  but  in  that  cosmopolitan  company  he  was 
unremarkable.  He  had  been  his  mother's  idol  and  Sir 
James  had  left  him  everything  he  could  scrape  from  his 
highly  mortgaged  property.  But  certain  tastes  of  his 
own  made  a  Continental  life  more  congenial  to  him,  and 
he  had  chosen  early  to  enter  a  financial  house  which  took 
him  to  the  East  and  Constantinople.  He  was  about 
twenty-seven  years  old  at  this  period  and  was  considered 
by  himself  and  a  number  of  women  to  be  a  creature  of 
superlative  charm. 

The  one  burning  bitterness  in  his  spirit  was  the  knowl- 
edge that  Sir  John  Ardayre  had  never  recognised  him  as 
a  brother.  During  Sir  James'  lifetime  there  had  been 
silence  upon  the  matter,  since  John  had  no  legal  reason 
for  denying  the  relationship,  but  once  he  had  become  mas- 
ter of  Ardayre  he  had  let  it  be  known  that  he  refused 
to  believe  Ferdinand  to  be  his  father's  son.  On  the  rare 
occasions  when  he  had  to  be  mentioned,  John  called  him 
"the  mongrel"  and  Ferdinand  was  aware  of  this.  A 
silent,  intense  hatred  filled  his  being — more  than  shared 
by  his  mother  who,  until  the  day  of  her  death,  two  years 
before,  had  always  plotted  vengeance — without  being 
able  to  accomplish  anything.  Either  mother  or  son 
would  willingly  have  murdered  John  if  a  suitable  and 
safe  method  had  presented  itself.  And  now  to  know  that 


30  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

John  had  married  a  beautiful  far-off  cousin  and  might 
have  children,  and  so  forever  preclude  the  possibility  of 
his — Ferdinand's — own  inheritance  of  Ardayre  was  a 
further  incentive  to  hate!  If  only  some  means  could 
be  discovered  to  remove  John,  and  soon!  But  while 
Ferdinand  thought  these  things,  watching  his  so-called 
brother  from  across  the  room,  he  knew  that  he  was 
impotent.  Poisons  and  daggers  were  not  weapons  which 
could  be  employed  in  civilised  Paris  in  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury! If  they  would  only  come  to  Constantinople! 

Amaryllis  Ardayre  had  never  seen  a  Paris  ball  before. 
She  was  enchanted.  The  sumptuous,  lofty  rooms,  with 
their  perfect  Louis  XV.  gilt  boiseries,  the  marvellous 
clothes  of  the  women,  the  gaiety  in  the  air !  She  was  ac- 
customed to  the  new  weird  dances  in  England,  but  had 
not  seen  them  performed  as  she  now  saw  them. 

"This  orgie  of  mad  people  is  a  wonderful  sight,"  Veris- 
schenzko  said,  as  he  stood  by  her  side.  "Paris  has  lost 
all  good  taste  and  sense  of  the  fitness^  of  things.  Look ! 
the  women  who  are  the  most  expert  in  the  wriggle  of  the 
tango  are  mostly  over  forty  years  old !  Do  you  see  that 
one  in  the  skin-tight  pink  robe?  She  is  a  grandmother! 
All  are  painted — all  are  feverish — all  would  be  young! 
It  is  ever  thus  when  a  country  is  on  the  eve  of  a 
cataclysm — it  is  a  dance  Macabre." 

Amaryllis  turned,  startled,  to  look  at  him,  and  she 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  full  of  melancholy,  and  not 
mocking  as  they  usually  were. 

"A  dance  Macabre!  You  do  not  approve  of  these 
tangoes  then?" 

He  gave  a  small  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  which  was  his 
only  form  of  gesticulation. 

"Tangoes — or  one  steps — I  neither  approve  nor  dis- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  31 

approve — dancing  should  all  have  its  meaning,  as  the 
Greek  Orchises  had.  These  dances  to  the  Greeks  would 
have  meant  only  one  thing — I  do  not  know  if  they  would 
have  wished  this  to  take  place  in  public,  they  were  an 
aesthetic  and  refined  people,  so  I  think  not.  We  Rus- 
sians are  the  only  so-called  civilised  nation  who  are  brutal 
enough  for  that;  but  we  are  far  from  being  civilised 
really.  Orgies  are  natural  to  us — they  are  not  to  the 
French  or  the  English.  Savage  sex  displays  for  these 
nations  are  an  acquired  taste,  a  proof  of  vicious  decay, 
the  middle  note  of  the  end." 

"I  learned  the  tango  this  Spring — it  is  charming  to 
dance,"  Amaryllis  protested.  She  was  a  little  uncom- 
fortable— the  subject,  much  as  she  was  interested  in  the 
Russian's  downright  views,  she  found  was  difficult  to 
discuss. 

"I  am  sure  you  did — you  counted  time — you  moved 
your  charming  form  this  way  and  that — and  you  had 
not  the  slightest  idea  of  anything  in  it  beyond  anxiety 
to  keep  step  and  do  the  thing  well !  Yes — is  it  not  so  ?" 

Amaryllis  laughed — this  was  so  true! 

"What  an  incredibly  false  sham  it  all  is!"  he  went 
on.  "Started  by  niggers  or  Mexicans  for  what  it  ob- 
viously means,  and  brought  here  for  respectable  mothers, 
and  wives,  and  girls  to  perform.  For  me  a  woman 
loses  all  charm  when  she  cheapens  the  great  mystery- 
ceremonies  of  love " 

"Then  you  won't  dance  it  with  me?"  Amaryllis  chal- 
lenged smilingly — she  would  not  let  him  see  that  she 
was  cast  down.  "I  do  so  want  to  dance!" 

His  eyes  grew  fierce. 

"I  beg  of  you  not !  I  desire  to  keep  the  picture  I  have 
made  of  you  since  we  met — later  I  shall  dance  it  myself 


32  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

with  a  suitable  partner,  but  I  do  not  want  you  mixed 
with  this  tarnished  herd." 

Amaryllis  answered  with  dignity : 

"If  I  thought  of  it  as  you  do  I  should  not  want  to 
4ance  it  at  all."  She  was  aggrieved  that  her  expressed 
desire  might  have  made  him  hold  her  less  high — "and 
you  have  taken  all  the  bloom  from  my  butterfly's  wing — 
I  will  never  enjoy  dancing  it  again — let  us  go  and  sit 
down." 

He  gave  her  his  arm  and  they  moved  from  the  room, 
coming  almost  into  conflict  with  Madame  Boleski  and 
her  partner,  Ferdinand  Ardayre,  whose  movements 
would  have  done  honour  to  the  lowest  nigger  ring. 

"There  is  your  friend,  Madame  Boleski — she  dances 
— and  so  well !" 

"Harietta  is  an  elemental — as  I  told  you  before — it  is 
right  that  she  should  express  herself  so.  She  is  very 
well  aware  of  what  it  all  means  and  delights  in  it.  But 
look  at  that  lady  with  the  hair  going  grey — it  is  the 
Marquise  de  Saint  Vrilliere — of  the  bluest  blood  in 
France  and  of  a  rigid  respectability.  She  married  her 
second  daughter  last  week.  They  all  spend  their  days  at 
the  tango  classes,  from  early  morning  till  dark — mothers 
and  daughters,  grandmothers  and  demi-mondaines,  Rus- 
sian Grand  Duchesses,  Austrian  Princesses — clasped  in 
the  arms  of  incredible  scum  from  the  Argentine,  half- 
castes  from  Mexico,  and  farceurs  from  New  York — de- 
cadent male  things  they  would  not  receive  in  their  ante- 
chambers before  this  madness  set  in !" 

"And  you  say  it  is  a  dance  Macabre?  Tell  me  just 
what  you  mean." 

They  had  reached  a  comfortable  sofa  by  now  in  a 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  33 

salon  devoted  to  bridge,  which  was  almost  empty,  the 
players,  so  eager  to  take  part  in  the  dancing,  that  they 
had  deserted  even  this,  their  favourite  game. 

"When  a  nation  loses  all  sense  of  balance  and  belies 
the  traditions  of  its  whole  history,  and  when  masses  of 
civilised  individuals  experience  this  craze  for  dancing 
and  miming,  and  sex  display,  it  presages  some  great  up- 
heaval— some  calamity.  It  was  thus  before  the  revolu- 
tion of  1793,  and  since  it  is  affecting  England  and  Amer- 
ica and  all  of  Europe  it  seems,  the  cataclysm  will  be 
great." 

Amaryllis  shivered.  "You  frighten  me,"  she  whis- 
pered. "Do  you  mean  some  war — or  some  earthquake 
— or  some  pestilence,  or  what?" 

"Events  will  show.  But  let  us  talk  of  something  else. 
A  cousin  of  your  husband's,  who  is  a  very  good  friend 
of  mine,  was  here  yesterday.  He  went  to  England 
to-day,  you  have  not  met  him  yet,  I  believe — Denzil 
Ardayre  ?" 

"No — but  I  know  all  about  him — he  plays  polo  and  is 
in  the  Zingari." 

"He  does  other  things — he  will  even  do  more — I  shall 
be  curious  to  hear  what  you  think  of  him.  For  me  he  is 
the  type  of  your  best  in  England.  We  were  at  Oxford 
together;  we  dreamed  dreams  there — and  perhaps  time 
will  realise  some  of  them.  Denzil  is  a  beautiful  English- 
man, but  he  is  not  a  fool." 

A  sudden  illumination  seemed  to  come  into  Amaryl- 
lis' brain ;  she  felt  how  limited  had  been  all  her  thoughts 
and  standpoints  in  life.  She  had  been  willing  to  drift 
on  without  speculation  as  to  the  goal  to  be  reached.  In- 
deed, even  now,  had  she  any  definite  goal?  She  looked 


34  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

at  the  Russian's  strong,  rugged  face,  his  inscrutable  eyes 
narrowed  and  gazing  ahead — of  what  was  he  thinking? 
Not  stupid,  ordinary  things — that  was  certain. 

"It  is  the  second  evening,  amidst  the  most  unlikely 
surroundings,  that  you  have  made  me  speculate  about 
subjects  which  never  troubled  me  before.  Then  you 
leave  me  unsatisfied — I  want  to  know — definitely  to 
know !" 

"Searcher  after  wisdom!"  and  he  smiled.  "No  one 
can  teach  another  very  much.  Enlightenment  must  come 
from  within ;  we  have  reached  a  better  stage  when  we 
realise  that  we  are  units  in  some  vast  scheme  and  re- 
sponsible for  its  working,  and  not  only  atoms  floating 
hither  and  thither  by  chance.  Most  people  have  the 
brains  of  grasshoppers ;  they  spring  from  subject  to  sub- 
ject, their  thoughts  are  never  under  control.  Their 
thoughts  rule  them — it  is  not  they  who  rule  their 
thoughts." 

They  were  seated  comfortably  on  their  sofa,  and  Veris- 
schenzko  leaning  forward  from  his  corner,  looked 
straight  into  her  eyes. 

"You  control  your  thoughts?"  she  asked.  "Can  you 
really  only  let  them  wander  where  you  choose?" 

"They  very  seldom  escape  me,  but  I  consciously  allow 
them  indulgences." 

"Such  as?" 

"Visions — day  dreams — which  I  know  ought  not  to 
materialise." 

Something  disturbed  her  in  his  regard ;  it  was  not  easy 
to  meet,  so  full  of  magnetic  emanation.  Amaryllis  was 
conscious  that  she  no  longer  felt  very  calm — she  longed 
to  know  what  his  dreams  could  be. 

"Yes — but  if  I  told  you,  you  would  send  me  away." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  35 

It  seemed  that  he  could  read  her  desire.  "I  shall  order 
myself  to  be  gone  presently,  because  the  interest  which 
you  cause  me  to  feel  would  interfere  with  work  which 
I  have  to  do." 

"And  your  dreams?  Tell  them  first?"  she  knew  that 
she  was  playing  with  fire. 

He  looked  down  now,  and  she  saw  that  he  was  not 
going  to  gratify  her  curiosity. 

"My  noblest  dream  is  for  the  regeneration  of  a  nation 
— on  that  I  have  ordered  my  thoughts  to  dwell.  For  the 
others,  the  time  is  not  yet  for  me  to  tell  you  of  them — it 
may  never  come.  Now  answer  me,  have  you  yet  seen 
your  new  home,  Ardayre?" 

"No,  but  why  should  you  be  interested  in  that?  It 
seems  strange  that  you,  a  Russian,  should  even  knqw 
that  there  is  such  a  place  as  Ardayre!" 

"Continue — I  know  that  it  is  a  wonderful  place,  and 
that  your  husband  loves  it  more  than  his  life." 

Amaryllis  pouted  slightly. 

"He  does  indeed !  Perhaps  I  shall  grow  to  do  so  also 
when  I  know  it;  it  is  the  family  creed.  Sir  James — 
my  late  father-in-law — was  the  only  exception  to  this 
rule." 

"You  must  uphold  the  idea  then,  and  live  to  do  fine 
things." 

"I  will  try — if  only — "  then  she  paused,  she  could  not 
say  "if  only  John  would  be  human  and  unfreeze  to  me, 
and  love  me,  and  let  us  go  on  the  road  together  hand 
in  hand!" 

"It  is  quite  useless  for  a  family  merely  to  continue 
from  generation  to  generation  piling  up  possessions,  and 
narrowing  its  interests.  It  must  do  this  for  a  time  to 
become  solid,  and  then  it  should  take  a  vaster  view,  and 


36  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

begin  to  help  the  world.  Nearly  everything  is  spoiled  in 
all  civilisation  because  of  this  inability  to  see  beyond  the 
nose,  this  poor  and  paltry  outlook." 

"People  rave  vaguely,"  Amaryllis  argued,  "about  one's 
duty  and  vast  outlooks  and  those  things,  but  it  is  difficult 
to  get  any 'one  to  give  concrete  advice — what  would  you 
advise  me  to  do,  for  instance?" 

"I  would  advise  you  first  to  begin  asking  yourself  the 
reason  of  everything,  each  day,  since  Pandora's  box  has 
been  opened  for  you  in  any  case.  'What  caused  this? 
What  caused  that?'  Search  for  causes — then  eradicate 
the  roots,  if  they  are  not  good,  do  not  waste  time  on 
trying  to  ameliorate  the  results!  Determine  as  to  why 
you  are  put  into  such  and  such  a  place,  and  accomplish 
what  you  discover  to  be  the  duty  of  the  situation.  But 
how  serious  we  have  become!  I  am  not  a  priest  to  give 
you  guidance — I  am  a  man  fighting  a  tremendously 
strong  desire  to  take  you  in  my  arms — so  come,  we  will 
return  to  the  ball  room,  and  I  will  deliver  you  to  your 
husband." 

Amaryllis  rose  and  stood  facing  him,  her  heart  was 
beating  fast.  "If  I  try  to  do  well — to  climb  the  straight 
road  of  the  soul's  advancement,  will  you  give  me  counsel 
should  I  need  it  by  the  way?" 

"Yes,  this  I  will  do  when  I  have  complete  control,  but 
for  the  moment  you  are  causing  me  emotions,  and  I  wish 
to  keep  you  a  thing  apart — of  the  spirit.  Hermits  and 
saints  subdue  the  flesh  by  abstinence  and  fasting;  they 
then  become  useless  to  the  world.  A  man  can  only  lead 
men  while  he  remains  a  man,  with  a  man's  passions,  so 
that  he  should  not  fight  in  this  beyond  his  strength — only 
he  should  never  sully  the  wrong  thing.  Come!  Return 
to  the  husband — and  I  shall  go  for  a  while  to  hell." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  37 

And  presently  Amaryllis,  standing  safely  with  John, 
saw  Verisschenzko  dancing  the  maddest  one-step  with 
Madame  Boleski,  their  undulations  outdoing  all  others  in 
the  room! 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  day  after  the  wonderful  rejoicing  which  the  home- 
coming of  Amaryllis  had  been  the  occasion  of  at  Ardayre, 
she  was  sitting  waiting  for  her  husband  in  that  exquisite 
cedar  parlour  which  led  from  her  room. 

They  would  breakfast  cosily  there,  she  had  arranged, 
and  nothing  was  wanting  in  the  setting  of  a  love  scene. 
The  bride  wore  the  most  alluring  cap  and  daintiest  Paris 
neglige,  and  her  fair  and  pure  skin  gleamed  through  the 
diaphanous  stuff. 

How  she  longed  for  John  to  notice  it  all,  and  make 
love  to  her!  She  had  apprehended  a  number  of  delight- 
ful possibilities  in  Paris,  none  of  which  had  materialised, 
alas !  in  her  case. 

John  was  the  same  as  ever — quiet,  dignified,  polite  and 
unmoved.  She  had  taken  to  turning  out  the  light  before 
he  came  to  her  at  night,  to  hide  the  disappointment  and 
chagrin  which  she  felt  might  show  in  her  eyes.  It  would 
be  so  humiliating  if  he  should  see  this.  There  would 
soon  be  nothing  left  for  her  to  do  but  pretend  that  she 
was  as  cold  as  he  was,  if  this  last  effort  of  froufrous  left 
him  as  stolid  as  usual. 

She  smoothed  out  the  pale  chiffon  draperies  with  a 
tender  hand.  She  got  up  and  looked  at  herself  in  the 
mirror.  It  was  fortunate  that  the  reflection  of  snowy 
nose  and  throat  and  chin,  and  the  pink  velvet  cheeks, 
required  no  art  to  perfect  them;  it  was  all  natural  and 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  39 

quite  nice,  she  felt.  What  a  bore  it  must  be  to  have  to 
touch  up  like  Madame  Boleski ! 

But  what  was  the  meaning  of  all  the  imputations  she 
had  read  of  in  those  interesting  French  novels  in  Paris? 
— the  languors  and  lassitudes  and  tremors  of  breakfast- 
ing love!  There  was  just  such  a  scene  as  this  in  one 
she  had  devoured  on  the  boat.  A  dejeuner  of  amants — 
certainly  they  had  not  been  married,  there  was  that  want 
of  resemblance,  but  surely  this  could  not  matter?  For 
a  fortnight,  three  weeks,  a  month,  surely  even  a  husband 
could  be  as  a  lover — especially  to  a  mistress  who  took 
such  pains  to  please  his  eye! 

Would  Elsie  Goldmore  spend  such  dull  breakfasts 
when  she  espoused  Harry  Kahn?  Elsie  Goldmore  was 
a  Jewess,  perhaps  that  made  the  difference,  perhaps  Jews 
were  more  expansive —  But  the  people  in  the  novels 
were  not  Jews.  Of  course,  though,  they  were  French, 
that  must  be  it!  Could  it  be  that  all  Englishmen,  to 
their  wives,  were  like  John?  This  she  must  presently 
find  out. 

Meanwhile  she  would  try — oh,  try  so  hard  to  entice 
him  to  be  lovely  to  her!  He  was  her  own  husband; 
there  was  absolutely  no  harm  in  doing  this.  And  how 
glorious  it  would  be  to  turn  him  into  a  lover !  Here  in 
this  perfectly  divine  old  house !  John  was  so  good- 
looking,  too,  and  had  the  most  attractive  deep  voice,  but 
heavens !  the  matter-of-f actness  of  everything  about  him ! 

How  long  would  it  all  go  on? 

John  came  in  presently  with  The  Times  under  his  arm. 
He  was  immaculately  dressed  in  a  blue  serge  suit. 
Amaryllis  had  hoped  to  see  him  in  that  subduedly  gor- 
geous dressing  gown  she  had  persuaded  him  to  order  at 
Charvets  during  their  first  days.  It  would  have  been  so 


40  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

suitable  and  intimate  and  lover-like.  But  no!  there  was 
the  blue  serge  suit — and  The  Times. 

A  shadow  fell  upon  her  mood.  Her  own  pink  chif- 
^ons  almost  seemed  out  of  place ! 

John  glanced  at  them,  and  at  the  glowing,  living,  de- 
licious bit  of  young  womanhood  which  they  adorned.  He 
saw  the  rebellious  ripe  cherry  of  a  mouth,  and  the  warm, 
soft  tenderness  in  the  grey  eyes,  and  then  he  quickly 
looked  out  of  the  window — his  own  blue  ones  expression- 
less, but  the  hand  which  held  the  newspaper  clenched 
rather  hard. 

"Amn't  I  a  pet!"  cooed  Amaryllis,  deliberately  sub- 
duing the  chill  of  her  first  disappointment.  "Dearest, 
see  I  have  kept  this  last  and  loveliest  set  of  garments 
for  the  morning  of  our  home-coming — and  for  you!" 
and  she  crept  close  to  him  and  laid  her  cheek  against  his 
cheek. 

He  encircled  her  with  his  arm  and  kissed  her  calmly. 

"You  look  most  beautiful,  darling,"  he  said.  "But 
then,  you  always  do,  and  your  frills  are  perfection.  Now 
I  think  we  ought  to  have  breakfast;  it  is  most  awfully 
late." 

She  sat  down  in  her  place  and  she  felt  stupid  tears 
rise  in  her  eyes. 

She  poured  out  the  tea  and  buttered  herself  some 
toast,  while  John  was  apparently  busy  at  a  side  table 
where  dwelt  the  hot  dishes. 

He  selected  the  daintiest  piece  of  sole  for  her,  and 
handed  her  the  plate. 

"I  am  not  hungry,"  she  protested,  "keep  it  for 
yourself." 

He  did  not  press  the  matter,  but  took  his  place  and 
began  to  talk  quietly  upon  the  news  of  the  day — in  a 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  41 

composed   fashion  between  glances  at   The   Times  and 
mouthfuls  of  sole. 

Amaryllis  controlled  herself.  She  was  too  proud  and 
too  just  to  make  a  foolish  scene.  If  this  was  John's  way^ 
and  her  little  effort  at  enticement  was  a  failure,  she  must 
put  up  with  it.  Marriage  was  a  lottery  she  had  always 
heard,  and  it  might  be  her  luck  to  have  drawn  a  blank. 
So  she  choked  down  the  rising  emotion  and  answered 
brightly,  showing  interest  in  her  husband's  remarks — 
and  she  even  managed  to  eat  some  omelette,  and  when 
the  business  of  breakfast  was  quite  over  she  went  to  the 
window  and  John  followed  her  there. 

The  view  which  met  their  eyes  was  exquisite. 

Beyond  the  perfect  stately  garden,  with  its  quaint 
clipped  yews  and  masses  of  spring  flowers  and  velvet 
lawns,  there  stretched  the  vast  park  with  its  splendid  oaks 
and  browsing  deer.  It  was  a  possession  which  any  man 
could  feel  proud  to  own. 

John  slipped  his  arm  round  her  waist  and  drew  her 
to  him. 

"Amaryllis,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  vibrated,  "to-day 
I  am  going  to  show  you  everything  I  love  here  at  Ardayre 
— because  I  want  you  to  love  it  all,  too.  You  are  of  the 
family,  so  it  must  mean  something  to  you,  dear." 

Amaryllis  kindled  with  re-awakening  hope. 

"Indeed,  it  will  mean  everything  to  me,  John.'1 

He  kissed  her  forehead  and  murmured  something 
about  her  dressing  quickly,  and  that  he  would  wait  for 
her  there  in  the  cedar  room.  And  when  she  returned 
in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  the  neatest  country 
clothes,  he  placed  her  hand  or  his  arm  and  led  her  down 
the  great  stairs  and  on  through  the  hall  into  the  picture 
gallery. 


42  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

It  was  a  wonderful  place  of  green  silk  and  chestnut 
wainscoting,  and  all  the  walls  of  its  hundred  feet  of 
length  were  hung  with  canvases  of  value — portraits  prin- 
cipally of  those  Ardayres  who  had  gone  on.  Face  after 
face  looked  down  on  Amaryllis  of  the  same  type  as  John's 
and  her  own — the  brown  hair  and  eyes  of  grey  or  blue. 
Some  were  a  little  fairer,  some  a  little  darker,  but  all 
unmistakably  stamped  "Ardayre." 

John  pointed  out  each  individual  to  her,  while  she  hung 
fondly  on  his  arm,  from  some  doubtful  crude  fourteenth 
century  wooden  panels  of  Johns  and  Denzils,  on  to  Bene- 
dict in  a  furred  Henry  VII.  gown.  Then  came  Henrys 
and  Denzils  in  Elizabethan  armour  and  puffed  white 
satin,  and  through  Stuart  and  Commonwealth  to  Stuart 
again,  and  so  to  William  and  Mary  numbers  of  Benedicts, 
and  lastly  to  powdered  Georgian  James'  and  Regency 
Denzils  and  Johns.  And  the  name  Amaryllis  recurred 
more  than  once  in  stately  dame  or  damsel,  called  after 
that  fair  Amaryllis  of  Elizabeth's  days  who  had  been 
maid  of  honour  to  the  virgin  Queen,  and  had  sonnets 
written  to  her  nut  brown  locks  by  the  gallants  of  her 
time. 

"How  little  the  women  they  married  seem  to  have 
altered  the  type !"  the  young  living  Amaryllis  exclaimed, 
when  they  came  nearly  to  the  end.  "It  goes  on  Ardayre, 
Ardayre,  Ardayre,  ever  since  the  very  first  one.  Oh! 
John,  if  we  ever  have  a  son  he  ought  to  be  even  more  so 
— you  and  I  being  of  the  same  blood — "  and  then  she 
hesitated  and  blushed  crimson.  This  was  the  first  time 
she  had  ever  spoken  of  such  a  thing. 

John  held  her  arm  very  tightly  to  his  side  for  a  second, 
and  his  voice  was  uncertain  as  he  answered: 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  43 

''Amaryllis,  that  is  the  profound  desire  of  my  heart, 
that  we  should  have  a  son." 

A  strange  feeling  of  exaltation  came  over  Amaryllis, 
half -innocent,  wholly  ignorant  as  she  was. 

She  had  been  stupid — French  novels  were  all  nonsense. 
Marriages  in  real  life  were  always  like  this — of  course 
they  must  be — since  John  said  plainly  and  with  such  deep 
feeling  that  his  profoundest  desire  was  that  they  should 
have  a  son !  That  meant  that  she  would  surely  have  one. 
This  was  perfectly  glorious,  and  it  must  simply  be  those 
silly  books  and  Elsie  Goldmore's  too  uxorious  imagina- 
tion which  had  given  her  some  ridiculously  romantic 
exaggerated  ideas  of  what  love  hours  would  be.  She 
would  now  be  contented  and  never  worry  again.  She 
nestled  closer  to  her  husband  and  looked  up  at  him  with 
eyes  sweet  and  fond,  the  brown,  curly  lashes  wet  with 
tender  dew. 

"Oh ! — darling,  when,  when  do  you  think  we  shall  have' 
a  son?" 

Then,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  John  Ardayre 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  passionately  and  held  her  to 
his  heart. 

"Ah,  God,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  as  he  kissed  her 
fresh  young  lips.  'Tray  for  that,  Amaryllis — pray  for 
that,  my  own." 

Then  he  restrained  himself  and  drew  her  on  to  the 
four  last  pictures  at  the  end  of  the  room.  They  were 
of  his  grandfather  and  grandmother,  and  his  father  and 
mother.  And  then  there  was  a  blank  space,  and  the 
brighter  colour  of  the  damask  showed  that  a  canvas  had 
been  removed. 

"Who  hung  there,  John?" 


44  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"The  accursed  snake  charmer  woman  whom  my  father 
disgraced  the  family  with  by  bringing  home.  She  was 
his  wife  by  the  law,  and  a  Frenchman  painted  her.  It 
was  a  fine  picture  with  the  bastard  Ferdinand  in  her  arms 
— the  proof  of  our  shame.  I  had  it  taken  down  and 
burnt  the  day  the  place  was  mine." 

Amaryllis  was  receiving  surprises  to-day — John's  face 
was  full  of  emotion,  his  eyes  were  sparkling  with  hate  as 
he  spoke.  How  he  must  love  everything  connected  with 
his  home,  and  its  honour,  and  its  name — he  could  not  be 
so  very  cold  after  all! 

She  thought  of  the  Russian's  words  about  a  family — 
the  uselessness  of  its  going  on  for  generations,  piling  up 
possessions  and  narrowing  its  interests.  What  had  the 
aims  been  of  all  these  handsome  men?  She  knew  the 
earlier  history  a  little,  for  even  though  she  was  of  a  dis- 
tant branch  they  had  been  proud  of  the  connection,  and 
treasured  the  traditions  belonging  to  it.  But  these  were 
just  dry  facts  of  history  which  she  knew,  so  now  she 
asked: 

"John,  what  did  any  of  them  do?  Did  they  accom- 
plish great  deeds?" 

He  took  her  back  to  the  beginning  again  and  began 
to  tell  her  of  the  achievements  of  each  one.  There  would 
be  three  perhaps,  one  after  another,  who  had  filled  high 
posts  in  the  State,  and  indeed  had  been  worthy  of  the 
name.  Then  would  come  one  or  two  quiet  plodding  ones, 
who  seemed',  to  have  done  little  but  sit  still  and  hold  on. 

Then  Denzil  Ardayre,  knight  of  Elizabeth's  time, 
pleased  Amaryllis  most  of  all — though  there  had  been 
greater  soldiers,  and  more  able  politicians  than  he  later 
on,  culminating  in  Sir  John  Ardayre  of  George  IV.  days, 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  45 

who  had  hammered  against  pocket  boroughs  and  corrup- 
tion until  he  died  an  old  man,  the  hour  the  Reform  Bill 
swept  aside  abuses  and  the  road  to  freedom  was  won. 

"How  strange  it  seems  that  different  ages  produce 
more  accentuated  stamps  of  breeding  than  others," 
Amaryllis  said,  "even  in  the  same  families  where  the 
blood  is  all  blue.  Look,  John!  that  Denzil  and  the  rest 
of  the  Elizabethans  are  the  most  refined,  aristocratic  crea- 
tures you  could  imagine,  in  their  little  ruffs.  Absolutely 
intellectual  and  cultivated  faces  and  of  old  race — and 
then  comes  a  James  period,  less  intelligent,  more  round 
featured.  And  a  Cavalier  one,  gay  and  gallant,  aristo- 
cratic and  chiselled  also,  but  not  nearly  so  clever  looking 
as  the  Elizabethan.  Then  we  get  cadaverous  William 
and  Mary  ones,  they  might  be  lawyers  or  business  men, 
not  that  look  of  great  gentlemen,  and  the  Anne's  and  the 
first  George's  are  really  bucolic !  And  then  that  wonder- 
fully refined,  cultivated,  intellectual  finish  seems  to  crop 
up  in  the  later  eighteenth  century  again.  Have  you 
noticed  this,  John?  You  can  see  it  in  every  collection 
of  miniatures  and  portraits  even  in  the  museums." 

John  responded  interestedly: 

"The  Elizabethans  were  supremely  cultivated  gentle- 
men— no  wonder  that  they  look  as  they  do — and  their 
lives  were  always  in  their  hands  which  gives  them  that 
air  of  insouciance." 

When  the  history  of  the  family  achievements  had  been 
told  her  down  to  John's  father,  she  paused,  still  clinging 
to  his  arm,  and  said: 

"I  am  so  glad  that  they  did  splendid  things,  aren't  you? 
And  we  shall  not  drift  either.  You  must  teach  me  to 
be  the  most  perfect  mistress  of  Ardayre,  and  the  most 


46  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

perfect  wife  for  the  greatest  of  them  all — because  your 
achievement  is  the  finest,  John,  to  have  won  it  all  back 
and  redeemed  it  by  the  work  of  your  own  brain." 

He  pressed  the  hand  on  his  arm. 

"It  was  hard  work — and  the  home  times  were  ugly  in 
those  days,  Amaryllis,  though  the  goal  was  worth  it,  and 
now  we  must  carry  on.  .  .  ."  And  then  his  reserve 
seemed  to  fall  upon  him  again,  and  he  took  her  through 
the  other  rooms,  and  kept  to  solid  facts,  and  historic  de- 
scriptions, and  his  bride  had  continuously  the  impression 
that  he  was  mastering  some  emotion  in  himself,  and  that 
this  stolidity  was  a  mask. 

When  lunch  time  came  the  usual  relations  of  obvious 
and  commonplace  goodfellowship  had  been  fully  restored 
between  them,  and  that  atmosphere  of  aloofness  which 
seemed  impossible  to  banish  enveloped  John  once  more. 

Amaryllis  sighed — but  it  was  too  soon  to  despair  she 
thought,  after  the  hope  of  John's  words,  and  with  her 
serene  temperament  she  decided  to  leave  things  as  they 
were  for  the  present  and  trust  to  time. 

But  as  her  maid  brushed  out  the  soft  brown  hair  that 
night,  an  unrest  and  longing  for  something  came  over 
her  again — what  she  knew  not,  nor  could  have  put  into 
words.  She  let  herself  re-live  that  one  moment  when 
John  had  pressed  her  with  passion  to  his  heart.  Perhaps, 
perhaps  that  was  the  beginning  of  a  change  in  him — 
perhaps — presently — 

But  the  clock  in  the  long  gallery  had  chimed  two,  and 
there  was  yet  no  sound  of  John  in  the  dressing-room 
beyond. 

Amaryllis  lay  in  the  great  splendid  gilt  bed  in  the 
warm  darkness,  and  at  last  tears  trickled  down  her 
cheeks. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  47 

What  could  keep  him  so  long  away  from  her?  Why 
did  he  not  come? 

The  large  Queen  Anne  windows  were  wide  open,  and 
soft  noises  of  the  night  floated  in  with  the  zephyrs.  The 
whole  air  seemed  filled  with  waiting  expectancy  for  some- 
thing tender  and  passionate  to  be. 

What  was  that?  Steps  upon  the  terrace — measured 
steps — and  then  silence,  and  then  a  deep  sigh.  It  must 
be  John — out  there  alone ! — when  she  would  have  loved 
to  have  stayed  with  him,  to  have  woven  sweet  fancies  in 
the  luminous  darkness,  to  have  taken  and  given  long 
kisses,  to  have  buried  her  face  in  the  honeysuckle  which 
grew  there,  steeped  in  dew.  But  he  had  said  to  her  after 
their  stately  dinner  in  the  great  dining-hall : 

"Play  to  me  a  little,  Amaryllis,  and  then  go  to  bed, 
child — you  must  be  tired  out." 

And  after  that  he  had  not  spoken  more,  but  pushed  her 
gently  towards  the  door  with  a  solemn  kiss  on  the  fore- 
head, and  just  a  murmur  of  "Good-night."  And  she  had 
deceived  herself  and  thought  that  it  meant  that  he  would 
come  quickly,  and  so  she  had  run  up  the  stairs. 

But  now  it  was  after  two  in  the  morning,  and  would 
soon  be  growing  towards  dawn — and  John  was  out  there 
sighing  alone ! 

She  crept  to  the  window  and  leaned  upon  the  sill. 
She  thought  that  she  could  distinguish  his  tall  figure 
there  by  the  carved  stone  bench. 

"John!"  she  called  softly,  "I  am  so  lonely — John, 
dearest — won't  you  come?" 

Then  she  felt  that  her  ears  must  be  deceiving  her,  for 
there  was  the  sound  of  a  faint  suppressed  sob,  and  then, 
a  second  afterwards,  her  husband's  voice  answering 
cheerily,  with  its  usual  casual  note : 


48  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"You  naughty  little  night  bird !  Go  back  to  bed — 
and  to  sleep — yes — I  am  coming  immediately  now !" 

But  when  he  did  steal  in  silently  from  the  dressing- 
room  an  hour  later  in  a  grey  dawn,  Amaryllis,  worn  out 
with  speculation  and  disappointment,  had  fallen  asleep. 

He  looked  down  upon  her  charming  face — the  long, 
curly  brown  lashes  sweeping  the  flushed  cheek,  and  at 
the  rounded,  beautiful  girlish  form — all  his  very  own 
to  clasp  and  to  kiss  and  to  hold  in  his  arms — and  two 
scalding  tears  gathered  in  his  blue  eyes,  and  he  took  his 
place  beside  her  without  making  a  sound. 


CHAPTER  V 

"Here  are  the  papers,  Hans,  but  I  think  the  whole  thing 
stupid  nonsense.  What  does  it  matter  to  any  one  what 
Poland  wants?  What  a  nuisance  all  these  old  boring 
political  things  are!  They  always  spoiled  our  happiness 
since  the  beginning — and  now  if  it  wasn't  for  them  we 
could  have  a  glorious  time  here  together.  I  would  love 
managing  to  come  out  to  meet  you  under  Stanislass'  nose. 
None  of  the  others  I  have  ever  had  are  as  good  in 
the  way  of  a  lover  as  you." 

The  man  swore  in  German  under  his  breath. 

"Of  a  lightness  always,  Harietta !  No  devouement,  no 
patriotism.  .  .  .  Should  I  have  agreed  to  the  divorce, 
loving  your  body  as  I  do,  had  it  not  been  a  serious  mat- 
ter? The  pig-dog  who  now  owns  you  must  be  sucked 
dry  of  information — and  then  I  shall  take  you  back 
again." 

A  cunning  look  came  into  Madame  Boleski's  hazel  eyes. 
She  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  permitting  this — 
to  go  back  to  Hans !  To  the  difficulty  of  making  both 
ends  meet!  Even  though  he  did  cause  every  inch  of  her 
well-preserved  body  to  tingle!  They  had  suggested  her 
getting  the  divorce  for  their  own  stupid  political  ends,  to 
be  able  to  place  her  in  the  arms  of  Stanislass  Boleski,  and 
there  she  meant  to  stay !  It  was  infinitely  more  agreeable 
to  be  a  grande  dame  in  Paris,  and  presently  in  London, 
than  to  be  the  spouse  of  Hans  in  Berlin,  where,  whatever 
his  secret  power  might  be  with  the  authorities,  he  could 
49 


50  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

give  her  no  great  social  position;  and  social  position  was 
the  goal  of  all  Harietta  Boleski's  desires ! 

She  could  attract  lovers  in  any  class  of  life — that  had 
never  been  her  difficulty.  Her  trouble  had  been  that 
she  could  never  force  herself  into  good  American  society, 
even  after  she  had  married  Hans,  and  they  had  dwelt 
there  for  a  year  or  more.  Her  own  compatriots  would 
have  none  of  her,  and  so  she  wanted  triumph  in  other 
lands.  She  hated  to  remember  her  youth  of  humiliation, 
trying  to  play  a  social  game  on  the  earnings  of  any  work 
that  she  could  pick  up,  between  discreet  outings  with — 
friends  who  failed  to  suggest  matrimony.  Hans,  on 
some  secret  mission  to  San  Francisco,  where  she  had 
gone  as  companion  to  a  friend,  had  seemed  a  veritable 
Godsend  and  Prince  Charming,  when,  in  her  thirtieth 
year,  he  actually  offered  legal  marriage,  completely  over- 
come by  her  great  physical  charm.  But  although  she 
loved  Hans  with  whatever  of  that  emotion  such  a  natiire 
could  be  capable  of,  five  years  of  him  and  more  or  less 
genteel  poverty  had  been  enough,  and  now  she  was  free 
of  that,  and  could  still  enjoy  surreptitiously  the  pleasure  of 
his  passion,  and  reign  as  a  persona  grata  wife  of  one 
of  the  richest  men  in  Poland  at  the  same  time.  That 
those  in  authority  who  had  arranged  the  divorce  required 
of  her  certain  tiresome  obligations  in  return  for  their 
services,  was  one  of  those  annoying  parts  of  life!  She 
took  not  the  slightest  interest  in  the  affairs  of  any  coun- 
try. Nothing  really  mattered  to  her,  but  herself.  Her 
whole  force  was  concentrated  upon  the  betterment  of  the 
position  and  physical  pleasure  of  Harietta  Boleski. 

It  was  this  instinct  alone  which  had  prompted  her  to 
acquire  a  smattering  of  education — and  with  the  quick, 
adaptive  faculty  of  a  monkey  she  had  been  able  to  use  this 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  51 

to  its  utmost  limits,  as  well  as  her  histrionic  talent — no 
mean  one — to  gain  her  ends.  She  was  now  playing  the 
role  of  a  lady,  and  playing  it  brilliantly  she  knew — and 
here  was  Hans  back  again,  and  suggesting  that  when  she 
had  secured  all  the  information  that  he  required  from 
Stanislass  she  should  return  to  him  ! 

"Tra  la  la!"  she  said  to  herself,  there  in  the  room  at 
the  Hotel  Astoria,  where  she  had  gone  to  meet  him, 
"think  this  if  it  pleases  you !  It  will  keep  you  quiet  and 
won't  hurt  me!" 

For  the  moment  she  wanted  Hans — the  man,  and  was 
determined  to  waste  no  further  time  on  useless  discus- 
sion. So  she  began  her  blandishments,  taking  pride  in 
showing  him  her  beautiful  garments,  and  her  string  of 
big  pearls ;  each  thing  exhibited  between  her  voluptuous 
kisses,  until  Hans  grew  intoxicated  with  desire,  and 
became  as  clay  in  her  hands. 

"It  is  not  thy  pig-dog  of  a  husband  I  wish  to  kill!" 
he  said,  after  one  hour  had  gone  by  in  inarticulate  mur- 
murings.  "Him  I  do  not  fear — it  is  the  Russian,  Veris- 
schenzko,  who  fills  me  with  hate — we  have  regard  of  him, 
he  does  not  go  unobserved,  and  if  you  allure  him  also 
among  the  rest,  beyond  the  instructions  which  you  had, 
then  there  will  be  unpleasantness  for  you,  my  little  cat — 
thy  Hans  will  twist  his  bear's  neck,  and  thine  also,  if 
need  be!" 

"Verisschenzko !"  laughed  Harietta,  "why,  I  hardly 
know  him;  he  don't  amount  to  a  row  of  pins!  He's 
Stanislass'  friend — not  mine." 

Then  she  smoothed  back  Hans'  rather  fierce,  fair 
moustache  from  his  lips  and  kissed  him  again — her  ruby 
ring  flashing  in  a  ray  of  sunlight. 

"Look!  isn't  this  a  lovely  jewel,  Hans!     My  old  Stan- 


52  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

nie  gave  it  to  me  only  some  clays  ago— it  is  my  new  toy- 
Hans  examined  it: 

"Thou  art  a  creature  of  the  devil,  Harietta,  there  is 
not  one  of  thy  evil  qualities  of  greed  and  extortion  which 
I  do  not  know.  Thou  liest  to  me  and  to  all  men — the 
only  good  thing  in  thee  is  thy  body — and  for  that  all  men 
let  thee  lie." 

Harietta  pouted. 

"I  can't  understand  when  you  talk  like  that,  Hans- 
it's  all  warbash,  as  we  said  out  West.  What  are  quali- 
ties? What  is  there  but  the  body  anyway?  Great 
sakes !  that's  enough  for  me,  and  the  devil  is  only  in  story 
books  to  frighten  children — I'm  just  like  every  other 
woman  and  I  want  to  have  a  good  time." 

"I  hear  that  you  are  going  to  London  soon,"  said 
Hans,  dropping  the  tutoyage  and  growing  brutally  severe, 
"to  conquer  new  lovers  and  to  wear  more  dresses?  But 
there  you  will  be  of  great  use  to  me.  Your  instructions 
will  be  all  ready  in  cypher  by  Tuesday  night,  when  you 
must  meet  me  at  whatever  point  is  convenient  to  you, 
after  nine  o'clock — here,  perhaps?" 

Harietta  frowned — she  had  other  views  for  Tuesday 
night. 

"What  shall  I  gain  by  coming,  or  by  going  on  with  this 
spying  on  Stan  ?  I'm  tired  of  it  all ;  it  breaks  my  head 
trying  to  take  in  your  horrid  old  cypher.  I  don't  think 
I'll  do  it  any  more." 

The  Prussian's  face  grew  livid  and  his  mouth  set  like 
an  iron  spring.  He  looked  at  her  straight  between  the 
eyes,  as  a  lion  tamer  might  have  done,  and  he  took  a  cane 
from  where  it  laid  on  a  bureau  near. 

"Until  you  are  black  and  blue,  I  will  beat  you,  woman," 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  53 

he  said,  "as  I  have  done  before — if  you  fail  us  in  a  single 
thing — and  do  not  think  we  are  powerless !  It  shall  be 
that  you  are  exposed  and  degraded,  and  so  lose  your 
game.  Now  tell  me,  will  you  go  on?" 

Harietta  crouched  in  fear,  just  animal,  physical  fear — 
she  had  felt  that  stick,  it  was  a  nightmare  to  her,  as  it 
might  have  been  to  a  child.  She  knew  that  Hans  would 
keep  his  word.  His  physical  strength  had  been  one  of 
the  things  she  had  adored  in  him — but  to  be  degraded 
and  exposed,  as  well  as  beaten,  touched  her  sensibilities, 
after  all  the  trouble  she  had  taken  to  become  a  lady  of 
the  world !  This  was  too  much.  No !  Tiresome  as  all 
these  old  papers  were,  she  would  have  to  go  on — but  since 
he  threatened  her  she  would  pay  him  out!  The  Russian 
should  have  papers  as  well!  And  so  there  was  good  in 
all  things,  since  now  material  advantage  would  come  from 
both  sides.  Was  it  not  right  that  you  looked  to  yourself, 
especially  when  menaced  with  a  stick? 

She  laughed  softly;  this  was  humorous  and  she  could 
appreciate  such  kind  of  humour. 

Hans  crushed  her  in  his  arms. 

"Answer!"  he  ordered  gutturally.  "Answer,  you 
fiend !" 

Harietta  became  cajoling — no  one  could  have  looked 
more  frank  or  simple,  as  simple  as  she  looked  to  all  great 
ladies  when  she  would  disarm  them  and  win  her  way. 
She  would  look  up  at  them  gently,  and  ask  their  advice, 
and  say  that  of  course  she  was  only  a  newcomer  and 
very  ignorant,  not  clever  like  they! 

"Hans,  darling,  I  was  only  joking,  am  I  not  devoted  to 
your  interests  and  always  ready  to  serve  you  and  the 
higher  powers  whom  you  serve?  Of  course,  I  will  come 
on  Tuesday  night  and,  of  course,  I  will  go  on." 


54  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

She  let  her  lip  tremble  and  her  eyes  fill  with  tears ;  they 
were  quite  real  tears.  She  felt  the  hardship  of  having 
to  weary  her  brain  with  a  new  cypher,  and  self-pity 
inflames  the  lachrymose  glands. 

"To  business  then,  mein  licbchen — attend  carefully  to 
every  word.  In  England  you  must  be  received  by  Royalty 
itself,  and  you  must  go  into  the  highest  circles  of  the 
diplomatic  and  political  world.  The  men  are  indiscreet 
there;  they  trust  their  women  and  tell  them  secret  things. 
It  is  the  women  you  must  please.  The  English  are  a  race 
of  fools ;  numbers  are  aristocrats  in  all  classes  and  there- 
fore too  stupid  to  suspect  craft,  and  those  who  are  not 
are  trying  to  appear  to  be,  and  too  conceited  to  use  their 
wits.  You  can  be  of  enormous  use  to  our  country,  Har- 
rietta,  my  wife,"  and  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room  in 
his  excitement,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him — he  would 
have  been  a  very  handsome  man  but  for  his  too  wide  hips. 

Harietta  looked  at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye ; 
she  did  not  notice  this  defect  in  him,  for  her  he  was  a 
splendid  male,  with  a  delightful  quality  of  savagery  in 
love  which  she  had  found  in  no  other  man  except  Veris- 
schenzko — Verisschenzko !  Her  thoughts  hesitated  when 
they  came  to  him — Verisschenzko  was  adorable,  but  he 
was  a  man  to  be  feared — much  more  than  Hans.  Him 
she  could  always  cajole  if  she  used  passion  enough,  but 
she  had  the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  Verisschenzko 
gave  way  to  her  only  when — and  because — he  wanted  to. 
not  for  the  reason  that  she  had  conquered  him. 

"Of  great  use  to  our  country,  Harietta,  my  wife," 
Hans  murmured  again,  clearing  his  throat. 

"I  am  not  your  wife,  my  pretty  Hans !"  and  she  raised 
her  eyebrows,  and  curled  one  corner  of  her  upper  lip. 
"You  gave  me  up  at  the  bidding  of  the  higher  command 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  55 

— I  am  your  mistress  now  and  then,  when  I  feel  inclined 
— but  I  am  Stanislass'  wife.  I  like  a  man  better  when  I 
am  his  mistress;  there  are  no  tiresome  old  duties  along 
with  it." 

Hans  growled,  he  hated  to  realise  this. 

"You  must  be  more  careful  with  your  speech,  Harietta. 
When  you  get  to  England  you  must  not  say  'along  with 
it' — after  the  pains  I  have  taken  with  your  grammar,  too ! 
You  can  use  Americanisms  if  they  are  apt,  and  even  a 
literal  translation  of  another  language — but  bad  grammar 
— common  phrases — pah !  that  is  to  give  the  show  away !" 

Harietta  reddened — her  vanity  disliked  criticism. 

"I  take  very  good  care  of  my  language  when  it  is 
necessary  in  the  world — I  am  considered  to  have  a  lovely 
voice — but  when  I'm  with  you  I  guess  I  can  enjoy  a 
holiday — it's  kind  of  a  rest  to  let  yourself  go,"  her  pro- 
nunciation lapsed  into  the  broadest  American,  just  to 
irritate  him,  and  she  stood  and  laughed  in  his  face. 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms.  She  never  failed  to  appeal 
to  his  senses ;  she  had  won  him  by  that  force  and  so  held 
his  brute  nature  even  after  five  years.  This  was  always 
the  reason  of  whatever  success  she  secured.  A  man  had 
no  smallest  doubt  as  to  why  he  was  drawn ;  it  was  a  direct 
appeal  to  the  most  primitive  animal  nature  in  him.  The 
birth  of  Love  is  ever  thus  if  we  would  analyse  it  truly, 
but  the  spirit  fortunately  so  wraps  things  in  illusion  that 
generally  both  participants  really  believe  that  the  mutual 
attraction  is  because  of  higher  emotions  of  the  mind,  and 
so  they  are  doomed  to  disappointment  when  passion  is 
sated,  unless  the  mind  fulfills  the  ideal.  But  if  the  reality 
fails  to  make  good,  the  refined  spirit  turns  in  disgust 
from  the  material,  unconsciously  resentful  in  that  it  has 
suffered  deception.  With  Harietta  this  disappointment 


56  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

could  never  occur,  since  she  created  no  illusion  that  she 
was  appealing  to  the  mind  at  all,  and  so  a  man  if  he  were 
attracted  faced  no  unknown  quality,  but  was  aware  that 
it  was  only  the  animal  in  him  which  was  drawn,  and  if 
his  senses  were  his  masters,  not  his  servants,  her  victory 
was  complete. 

After  some  more  fierce  caresses  had  come  to  an  end — 
there  was  no  delicacy  about  Harietta — Hans  continued 
his  discourse. 

"There  has  come  here  to  Paris  a  young  man  of  the 
name  of  Ardayre — Ferdinand  Ardayre — he  is  slippery, 
but  he  can  be  of  the  greatest  value  to  us.  See  that  you 
become  friends — you  can  reach  him  through  Abba  Bey. 
He  hates  his  brother  who  is  the  head  of  the  family  and 
he  hates  his  brother's  wife — for  family  reasons  which  it 
is  not  necessary  to  waste  time  in  telling  you.  I  knew  him 
in  Constantinople.  Underneath  I  believe  he  hates  the 
English — there  is  a  slur  on  him." 

"I  have  already  met  him,"  and  Harietta's  eyes  sparkled. 
"I  hate  the  wife  also  for  my  own  reasons — yes — how  can 
I  help  you  with  this?" 

"It  is  Ferdinand  you  must  concentrate  on;  I  am  not 
concerned  with  the  brother  or  his  wife,  except  in  so  far 
as  his  hate  for  them  can  be  used  to  cnr  advantage.  Do 
not  embark  upon  this  to  play  games  of  your  own  for  your 
hate — you  may  be  foolish  then  and  upset  matters." 

"Very  well."  The  two  objects  could  go  together, 
Harietta  felt;  she  never  wasted  words.  It  would  be 
a  pleasure  one  day,  perhaps,  to  be  able  to  injure  that  girl 
whom  Verisschenzko  certainly  respected,  if  he  was  not 
actually  growing  to  iove  her.  Harietta  did  not  desire 
the  respect  of  men  in  the  abstract ;  it  could  be  a  great 
bore — what  they  thought  of  her  never  entered  her  con- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  57 

sideration,  since  she  was  only  occupied  with  her  own 
pleasure  in  them  and  how  they  affected  herself.  Respect 
was  one  of  the  adjuncts  of  a  good  social  position ;  and  of 
value  merely  in  that  aspect.  But  as  Verisschenzko  re- 
spected no  one  else,  as  far  as  she  knew,  that  must  mean 
something  annoyingly  important. 

Seven  o'clock  struck;  she  had  thoroughly  enjoyed  be- 
ing with  Hans,  he  satisfied  her  in  many  ways,  and  it 
was  also  a  relaxation,  as  she  need  not  act.  But  the  joys 
of  the  interview  were  over  now,  and  she  had  others  pre- 
pared for  later  on,  and  must  go  back  to  the  Rhin  to  dress. 
So  she  kissed  Hans  and  left,  having  arranged  to  meet 
him  on  the  Tuesday  night  here  in  his  rooms,  and  having 
received  precise  instructions  as  to  the  nature  of  the  in- 
formation to  be  obtained  from  Ferdinand  Ardayre. 

Life  would  be  a  paradise  if  only  it  were  not  for  these 
ridiculous  and  tiresome  political  intrigues.  Harietta  had 
no  taste  for  actual  intrigue,  its  intricacies  were  a  weari- 
ness to  her.  If  she  could  have  married  a  rich  man  in  the 
beginning,  she  always  told  herself,  she  would  never  have 
mixed  herself  up  in  anything  of  the  kind,  and  now  that 
she  had  married  a  rich  man,  she  would  try  to  get  out  of 
the  nuisance  as  soon  as  possible.  Meanwhile,  there  was 
Ferdinand — and  Ferdinand  was  becoming  in  love  with 
her — they  had  met  three  times  since  the  Montivacchini 
ball. 

"He'll  be  no  difficulty,"  she  decided,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief.  It  would  not  be  as  it  had  been  with  Veris- 
schenzko, whom  she  had  been  directed  to  capture.  For 
in  Verisschenzko  she  had  found  a  master — not  a  dupe. 

When  she  reached  the  beautiful  Champs-Ely  sees,  she 
looked  at  her  diamond  wrist  watch.  It  was  only  ten  min- 
utes past  seven,  the  dinner  at  the  Austrian  Embassy  was 


58  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

not  until  half-past  eight.  Dressing  was  a  serious  busi- 
ness to  Harietta,  but  she  meant  to  cut  it  down  to  half  an 
hour  to-night,  because  there  was  a  certain  apartment  in 
the  Rue  Cambon  which  she  intended  to  visit  for  a  few 
minutes. 

"What  an  original  street  to  have  an  apartment  in!" 
people  always  said  to  Verisschenzko.  "Nothing  but  busi- 
ness houses  and  model  hotels  for  travellers !"  And  the 
shabby  looking  porte-cochere  gave  no  evidence  of  the  old 
Louis  XV.  mansion  within,  converted  now  into  a  series 
of  offices,  all  but  the  top  flooring  looking  on  to  the 
gardens  of  the  Minister e. 

Verisschenzko  had  taken  it  for  its  situation  and  its 
isolation,  and  had  converted  it  into  a  thing  of  great 
beauty  of  panelling  and  rare  pictures  and  the  most  com- 
fortable chairs.  There  was  absolute  silence,  too,  there 
among  the  tree  tops. 

Madame  Boleski  ascended  leisurely  the  shallow  stairs 
— there  was  no  lift — and  rang  her  three  short  rings, 
which  Peter,  the  Russian  servant,  was  accustomed  to  ex- 
pect. The  door  was  opened  at  once,  and  she  was  taken 
through  the  quaint  square  hall  into  the  master's  own 
sitting-room,  a  richly  sombre  place  of  oak  boiserie  and 
old  crimson  silk. 

Verisschenzko  was  writing  and  just  glanced  up  while 
he  murmured  Napoleon's  famous  order  to  Mademoiselle 
George — but  Harietta  Boleski  pushed  out  her  full  under- 
lip  and  sat  down  in  a  deep  armchair. 

"No — not  this  evening,  I  have  only  a  moment.  I  have 
merely  come,  Stepan,  you  darling,  to  tell  you  that  I 
have  something  interesting  to  say." 

"Not  possible!"  and  he  carefully  sealed  down  a  letter 
he  had  been  writing  and  put  it  ready  to  be  posted.  Then 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  59 

he  came  over  and  took  some  cigarettes  from  a  Fabergei 
enamel  box  and  offered  her  one. 

Harietta  smoked  most  of  the  day  but  she  refused  now. 

"You  have  come,  not  for  pleasure,  but  to  talk!  Sa- 
pristi!  I  am  duly  amazed!" 

Another  woman  would  have  been  insulted  at  the  tone 
and  the  insinuation  in  the  words,  but  not  so  Harietta. 
She  did  not  pretend  to  have  a  brain,  that  was  one  of  her 
strong  points,  and  she  understood  and  appreciated  the 
crudest  methods,  so  long  as  their  end  was  for  the  pleasure 
of  herself. 

She  nodded,  and  that  was  all. 

Verisschenzko  threw  himself  into  the  opposite  chair, 
his  yellow-green  eyes  full  of  a  mocking  light. 

"I  have  seen  a  brooch  even  finer  than  the  ruby  ring 
at  Cartier's  just  now — I  thought  perhaps  if  I  were  very 
pleased  with  you,  it  might  be  yours." 

Harietta  bounded  from  her  chair  and  sat  upon  his 
knee. 

"You  perfect  angel,  Stepan,  I  adore  you!"  she  said. 
He  did  not  return  the  caresses  at  all,  but  just  ordered : 

"Now  talk." 

She  spoke  rapidly,  and  he  listened  intently.  He  was 
weighing  her  words  and  searching  into  their  truth.  He 
decided  that  for  some  reason  of  her  own  she  was  not  ly- 
ing— and  in  any  case  it  did  not  matter  if  she  were  not, 
because  he  had  resources  at  his  command  which  would 
enable  him  to  test  the  information,  and  if  it  were  true  it 
would  be  worth  the  brooch. 

"She  has  been  wounded  in  some  way,  probably  physi- 
cally, since  nothing  less  material  would  affect  her.  Phys- 
ically and  in  her  vanity — but  who  can  have  done  it?"  the 
Russian  asked  himself.  "Who  is  her  German  corre« 


60  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

spondent?  This  I  must  discover — but  since  it  is  the 
first  time  she  has  knowingly  given  me  information,  it 
proves  some  revenge  in  her  goat's  brain.  Now  is  the 
time  to  obtain  the  most." 

He  encircled  her  with  his  arm  and  kissed  her  with 
less  contemptuous  brutality  than  usual,  and  he  told  her 
that  she  was  a  lovely  creature,  and  the  desire  of  all  men — 
while  he  appeared  to  attach  little  importance  to  the  in- 
formation she  vouchsafed,  asking  no  questions  and  re- 
lighting a  cigarette.  This  forced  her  to  be  more  explicit, 
and  at  last  all  that  she  meant  to  communicate  was 
exposed. 

"You  imagine  things,  my  child,"  he  scoffed.  "I  would 
have  to  have  proof — and  then  if  it  all  should  be  as  you 
say.  Why,  that  brooch  must  be  yours — for  I  know  that 
it  is  out  of  real  love  for  me  that  you  talk,  and  I  always 
pay  lavishly  for — love." 

"Indeed,  you  know  that  I  adore  you,  Stepan — and  that 
brooch  is  just  what  I  want.  Stanislass  has  been  nig- 
gardly beyond  words  to  me  lately,  and  I  am  tired  of  all 
my  other  things." 

"Bring  me  some  proof  to  the  reception  to-night.  I 
am  not  dining,  but  I  shall  be  there  by  eleven  for  a  few 
moments." 

She  agreed,  and  then  rose  to  go — but  she  pouted  again 
and  the  convex  obstine  curve  below  her  under  lip  seemed 
to  obtrude  itself. 

"She  has  gone  back  to  England — your  precious  bride — 
I  suppose?" 

"She  has." 

"We  shall  all  meet  there  in  a  week  or  so — Stanislass 
is  going  to  see  some  of  his  boring  countrymen  in  London 
— the  conference  you  know  about — and  we  have  taken  a 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  61 

house  in  Grosvenor  Square  for  some  months.     I  do  not 
know  many  people  yet — will  you  see  to  it  that  I  do?" 

"I  will  see  that  you  have  as  many  of  these  handsome 
Englishmen  as  will  completely  keep  your  hands  full." 

She  laughed  delightedly. 

"But  it  is  women  I  want ;  the  men  I  can  always  get  for 
myself." 

"Fear  nothing,  your  reception  will  be  great." 

Then  she  flung  herself  into  his  arms  and  embraced 
him,  and  then  moved  towards  the  door. 

"I  will  telephone  to  Cartier  in  the  morning,"  and  Veris- 
schenzko  opened  the  door  for  her,  "if  you  bring  me  some 
interesting  proof  of  your  love  for  me — to-night." 

And  when  she  had  gone  he  took  up  his  letter  again 
and  looked  at  the  address. 

To 

LADY  ARDAYRE, 
Ardayre  Chase, 
North  Somerset, 
Angleterre. 

"I  must  keep  to  the  things  of  the  spirit  with  you,  pre- 
cious lady.  And  when  I  cannot  subdue  it,  there  is  Har- 
ietta  for  the  flesh — wough !  but  she  sickens  me — even  for 
that !" 


CHAPTER  VI 

Denzil  Ardayre  could  not  get  any  more  leave  for  a 
considerable  time  and  remained  quartered  in  the  North, 
where  he  played  cricket  and  polo  to  his  heart's  content, 
but  the  head  of  the  family  and  his  charming  wife  went 
through  the  feverish  season  of  1914  in  the  town  house  in 
Brook  Street.  Ardayre  was  too  far  away  for  week-end 
parties,  but  they  had  several  successful  London  dinners, 
and  Amaryllis  was  becoming  quite  a  capable  hostess,  and 
was  much  admired  in  the  world. 

Very  fine  of  instinct  and  apprehension  at  all  times,  she 
was  developing  by  contact  with  intelligent  people — for 
John  had  taken  care  that  she  only  mixed  with  the  most 
select  of  his  friends.  The  de  la  Paule  family  had  been 
more  than  appreciative  of  her  and  had  guided  her  and 
supervised  her  visiting  list  with  care. 

Everything  was  too  much  of  a  rush  for  her  to  think 
and  analyse  things,  and  if  she  had  been  asked  whether 
she  was  happy,  she  would  have  thought  that  she  was 
replying  with  honesty  when  she  affirmed  that  she  was. 
John  was  not  happy  and  knew  it,  but  none  of  his  emotions 
ever  betrayed  themselves,  and  the  mask  of  his  stolid 
content  never  changed. 

They  had  gone  on  with  their  matter-of-fact  relations, 
and  when  they  returned  to  London  after  a  week  at  Ar- 
dayre, all  had  been  much  easier,  because  they  were  seldom 
alone — and  at  last  Amaryllis  had  grown  to  accept  the 
situation,  and  try  not  to  speculate  about  it.  She  danced 
62 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  63 

every  night  at  balls  and  continued  the  usual  round,  but 
often  at  the  Opera,  or  the  Russian  ballet,  or  driving  back 
through  the  park  in  the  dawn,  some  wild  longing  for  ro- 
mance would  stir  in  her,  and  she  would  nestle  close  to 
John.  And  John  would  perhaps  kiss  her  quietly  and 
speak  of  ordinary  things.  He  went  everywhere  with  her 
though,  and  never  failed  in  the  kindest  consideration. 
He  seldom  danced  himself,  and  therefore  must  often  have 
been  weary,  but  no  suggestion  of  this  ever  reached 
Amaryllis. 

"What  does  he  talk  to  his  friends  about,  I  wonder?" 
she  asked  herself,  watching  him  from  across  a  room,  in 
a  great  house  after  dinner  one  night. 

John  was  seated  beside  the  American  Lady  Avonwier, 
a  brilliant  person  who  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  bored. 
He  appeared  calm  as  usual,  and  there  they  sat  until  it 
was  time  to  go  on  to  a  ball. 

Everything  he  said  was  so  sensible,  so  well  informed — 
perhaps  that  was  a  nice  change  for  people — and  then  he 
was  very  good-looking  and — but  oh!  what  was  it — what 
was  it  which  made  it  all  so  disappointing  and  tame! 

A  week  after  they  had  come  up  to  Brook  Street,  the 
Boleskis  arrived  at  the  Mount  Lennard  House  which  they 
had  taken  in  Grosvenor  Square,  armed  with  every  kind 
of  introduction,  and  Harietta  immediately  began  to  dazzle 
the  world. 

Her  dresses  and  jewels  defied  all  rivalry ;  they  were  in 
a  class  alone,  and  she  was  frank  and  stupid  and  gracious 
— and  fitted  in  exactly  with  the  spirit  of  the  time. 

She  restrained  her  movements  in  dancing  to  suit  the 
less  advanced  English  taste;  she  gave  to  every  charity 
and  organized  entertainments  of  a  fantastic  extravagance 
which  whetted  the  appetite  of  society,  grown  jaded  with 


64  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

all  the  old  ways.  The  men  of  all  ages  flocked  round  her, 
and  she  played  with  them  all — ambassadors,  politicians, 
guardsmen,  all  drawn  by  her  own  potent  charm,  and  she 
disarmed  criticism  by  her  stupidity  and  good  nature,  and 
the  lavish  amusements  she  provided  for  every  one — while 
the  chef  they  had  brought  over  with  them  from  Paris 
would  have  insured  any  hostess's  success! 

Harietta  had  never  been  so  happy  in  all  the  thirty-six 
years  of  her  life.  This  was  her  hour  of  triumph.  She 
was  here  in  a  country  which  spoke  her  own  language — 
for  her  French  was  deplorably  bad — she  had  an  unques- 
tioned position,  and  all  would  have  been  without  flaw  but 
for  this  tiresome  information  she  was  forced  to  collect. 

Verisschenzko  had  been  detained  in  Paris.  The  events 
of  the  twenty -eighth  of  June  at  Serajevo  were  of  deep 
moment  to  him,  and  it  was  not  until  the  second  week  in 
July  that  he  arrived  at  the  Ritz,  full  of  profound 
preoccupation. 

Amaryllis  had  been  to  Harietta's  dinners  and  dances, 
and  now  the  Boleskis  had  been  asked  down  to  Ardayre  in 
return  for  the  three  days  at  the  end  of  the  month,  when 
the  coming  of  age  of  the  young  Marquis  of  Bridge- 
borough  would  give  occasion  for  great  rejoicings,  and 
Amaryllis  herself  would  give  a  ball. 

"You  cannot  ask  people  down  to  North  Somerset  in 
these  days  just  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  my  dear 
child,"  Lady  de  la  Paule  had  said  to  her  nephew's  wife. 
"Each  season  it  gets  worse;  one  is  flattered  if  one's 
friends  answer  an  invitation  to  dinner  even,  or  remain 
for  half  an  hour  when  it  is  done.  I  do  not  know  what 
things  are  coming  to,  etiquette  of  all  sorts  went  long 
ago — now  manners,  and  even  decency  have  gone.  We 
are  rapidly  becoming  savages,  openly  seizing  whatever 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  65 

good  thing  is  offered  to  us  no  matter  from  whom,  and 
then  throwing  it  aside  the  instant  we  catch  sight  of  some- 
thing new.  But  one  must  always  go  with  the  tide  unless 
one  is  strong  enough  to  stem  it,  and  frankly  /  am  not. 
Now  Bridgeborough's  coming  of  age  will  make  a  nice 
excuse  for  you  to  have  a  party  at  Ardayre.  How  many 
people  can  you  put  up?  Thirty  guests  and  their  servants 
at  least,  and  seven  or  eight  more  if  you  use  the  agent's 
house." 

So  thus  it  had  been  arranged,  and  John  expressed  his 
pleasure  that  his  sweet  Amaryllis  should  show  what  a 
hostess  she  could  be. 

None  but  the  most  interesting  people  were  invited,  and 
the  party  promised  to  be  the  greatest  success. 

Two  or  three  days  before  they  were  to  go  down, 
Amaryllis  coming  in  late  in  the  afternoon,  found  Veris- 
schenzko's  card. 

"Oh !  John !"  she  cried  delightedly,  "that  very  thrilling 
Russian  whom  we  met  in  Paris  has  called.  You  remem- 
ber he  wrote  to  me  some  time  ago  and  said  he  would 
let  us  know  when  he  arrived.  Oh !  would  not  it  be  nice 
to  have  him  at  our  party — let  us  telephone  to  him  now!" 

Verisschenzko  answered  the  call  himself,  he  had  just 
come  in;  he  expressed  himself  as  enchanted  at  the 
thought  of  seeing  her — and  yes — with  pleasure  he  would 
come  down  to  Ardayre  for  the  ball. 

"We  shall  meet  to-night,  perhaps,  at  Carlton  House 
Terrace  at  the  German  Embassy,"  he  said,  "and  then  we 
can  settle  everything." 

Amaryllis  wondered  why  she  felt  rather  excited  as  she 
walked  up  the  stairs — she  had  often  thought  of  Veris- 
schenzko, and  hoped  he  would  come  to  England.  He 
was  vivid  and  living  and  would  help  her  to  balance  her- 


66  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

self.  She  had  thought  while  she  dressed  that  her  life 
had  been  one  stupid  rush  with  no  end,  since  that  night 
when  they  had  talked  of  serious  things  at  the  Montivac- 
chini  hotel.  She  had  need  of  the  counsel  he  had  prom- 
ised to  give  her,  for  this  heedless  racket  was  not  adding 
lustre  to  her  soul. 

Verisschenzko  seemed  to  find  her  very  soon — he  was 
not  one  of  those  persons  who  miss  things  by  vagueness. 
His  yellow-green  eyes  were  blazing  when  they  met  hers, 
and  without  any  words  he  offered  her  his  arm,  foreign 
fashion,  and  drew  her  out  on  to  the  broad  terrace  to  a 
secluded  seat  he  had  apparently  selected  beforehand,  as 
there  was  no  hesitancy  in  his  advance  towards  this  goal. 

He  looked  at  her  critically  for  an  instant  when  they 
were  seated  in  the  soft  gloom. 

"You  are  changed,  Madame.  Half  the  soul  is  awake 
now,  but  the  other  half  has  gone  further  to  sleep." 

" — Yes,  I  felt  you  would  say  that — I  do  not  like  my- 
self," and  she  sighed. 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

"I  seem  to  be  drifting  down  such  a  useless  stream — 
and  it  is  all  so  mad  and  aimless,  and  yet  it  is  fun.  But 
every  one  is  tired  and  restless  and  nobody  cares  for  any- 
thing real — I  am  afraid  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  stand 
aside  from  it  though,  and  I  wonder  sometimes  what  I 
shall  become." 

Verisschenzko  looked  at  her  earnestly — he  was  silent 
for  some  seconds. 

"Fate  may  alter  the  atmosphere.  There  are  things 
hovering,  I  fear,  of  which  you  do  not  dream,  little  pro- 
tected English  bride.  Perhaps  it  is  good  that  you  live 
while  you  can  * 

"What  things?" 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  67 

"Sorrows  for  the  world.  But  tell  me,  have  you  seen 
Harietta  Boleski  in  her  London  role?" 

"Yes — she  is  the  greatest  success — every  one  goes  to 
her  parties;  she  is  coming  to  mine  at  Ardayre." 

Verisschenzko  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  nothing  could 
have  been  more  sardonically  whimsical  than  his  smile. 

"I  saw  Stanislass  this  morning — he  is  almost  gaga 
now — a  mere  cypher — she  has  destroyed  his  body,  as  well 
as  his  soul." 

"They  are  both  coming  on  the  twenty-third." 

"It  will  be  an  interesting  visit  I  do  not  doubt — and  I 
shall  see  the  Family  house !" 

"I  hope  you  will  like  it — I  shall  love  to  show  it  to  you, 
and  the  pictures.  It  means  so  much  to  John." 

"Have  you  met  your  cousin  Denzil  yet?" 

Verisschenzko  was  studying  her  face;  it  had  gained 
something,  it  was  a  little  finer — but  it  had  lost  something 
too,  and  there  was  a  shadow  in  her  eyes. 

"Denzil  Ardayre?  No — What  made  you  mention  him 
now?" 

"I  shall  be  curious  as  to  what  you  think  of  him,  he 
is  so  like — your  husband,  you  know." 

The  subject  did  not  interest  Amaryllis ;  she  wanted  to 
hear  more  of  the  Russian's  unusual  views. 

"You  know  London  well,  do  you  not?"  she  asked. 

"Yes — I  often  came  up  from  Oxford  when  I  was 
there,  and  I  have  revisited  it  since.  It  is  a  sane  place 
generally,  but  this  year  it  would  seem  to  be  almost  as 
desequilibre  as  the  rest  of  the  world." 

"You  give  me  an  uneasy  feeling,  as  though  you  knew 
that  something  dreadful  was  going  to  happen.  What  is 
it?  Tell  me." 

"One  can  only  speculate  how  soon  a  cauldron  will  boil 


68  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

over,  one  cannot  be  certain  in  what  direction  the  liquid 
will  fly.  The  whole  world  seems  feverish;  the  spirit  of 
progress  has  awakened  after  hundreds  of  years  of  sleep, 
and  is  disturbing  everything.  In  all  boilings  the  scum 
rises  to  the  top;  we  are  at  the  period  when  this  has  oc- 
curred— we 'can  but  wait — and  watch." 

"If  we  had  a  new  religion?" 

"It  will  come  presently,  the  reign  of  mystical  make- 
belief  is  past." 

"But  surely  it  is  mysticism  and  idealism  which  make 
ordinary  things  divine !" 

"Certainly  when  they  are  emplanted  upon  a  true  basis. 
I  said  'make-believe' — that  is  what  kills  all  good  things 
— make-believe.  Most  of  the  present-day  leaders  are 
throwing  dust  in  their  followers'  eyes — or  their  own. 
Priests  and  politicians,  lawyers  and  financiers — all  of 
them  are  afraid  of  the  truth.  Every  one  lives  in  a  stupid 
atmosphere  of  self-deception.  The  religion  of  the  future 
will  teach  each  individual  to  be  true  to  himself,  and  when 
that  is  accomplished  the  sixth  root  race  will  be  born. 
Look  at  that  man  over  there  talking  to  a  woman  with 
haggard  eyes — can  you  see  them  in  the  gloom?  They 
have  all  the  ugly  entities  around  them,  the  spirits  of  mor- 
phine and  nicotine — drawing  misfortune  and  bodily  de- 
cay. Every  force  has  to  have  its  congenial  atmosphere, 
or  it  cannot  exist ;  fishes  cannot  breathe  on  land." 

Amaryllis  looked  at  the  pair;  they  were  well-known 
people,  the  man  celebrated  in  the  literary  and  artistic  sec- 
tion of  the  world  of  fashion — the  woman  of  high  rank 
and  of  refined  intelligence. 

Verisschenzko  looked  also.  "I  do  not  know  either  of 
their  names,"  he  said,  "I  am  simply  judging  by  the  ob- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  69 

vious  deductions  to  be  made  by  their  appearances  to  any 
one  who  has  developed  intuition." 

"How  I  wish  I  could  learn  to  have  that!" 

"Read  Voltaire's  'Zadig.'  Deductive  methods  are 
shown  in  it  useful  to  begin  upon — observe  everything 
about  people,  and  then  having  seen  results,  work  back 
to  causes,  and  then  realise  that  all  material  things  are 
the  physical  expression  of  an  etheric  force,  and  as  we 
can  control  the  material,  we  need  thus  only  attract  what 
etheric  waves  we  desire." 

Amaryllis  looked  again  at  the  pair — both  were  smoking 
idly,  and  she  remembered  having  heard  that  they  both 
"took  drugs."  It  was  a  phrase  which  had  meant  nothing 
to  her  until  now. 

"You  mean  that  because  they  smoke  all  the  time,  and 
it  is  said  they  take  morphine  piqiires,  that  they  are  not 
only  hurting  their  bodies,  but  drawing  spiritual  ills  as 
well." 

"Obviously.  They  have  surrounded  themselves  with 
the  drab  demagnetising  current  which  envelops  the  body 
when  human  beings  give  up  their  wills.  It  would  be 
very  difficult  for  anything  good  to  pierce  through  such 
ambience.  Have  you  ever  remarked  the  strange  ends 
of  all  people  who  take  drugs?  They  seldom  die  natural, 
ordinary  deaths.  The  evil  entities  which  they  have 
drawn  round  them  by  their  own  weakness,  destroy  them 
at  last." 

"I  do  not  like  the  idea  that  there  are  these  'entities,' 
as  you  call  them,  all  around  us." 

"There  are  not,  they  cannot  come  near  us  unless  we 
allow  them — have  I  not  told  you  that  the  atmosphere  must 
be  congenial?  Our  own  wills  can  create  an  armour 


70  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

through  which  nothing  demagnetising  can  pass.  It  is 
weakness  and  drifting  which  are  inexorably  punished: 
they  draw  currents  suitable  for  the  vampires  beyond  to 
exist  on." 

"All  this  does  sound  so  weird  to  me."  Amaryllis  was 
interested  and  yet  repelled. 

"Have  you  ever  thought  about  Marconigrams  and  their 
etheric  waves?  No — not  often.  People  just  accept  such 
things  as  facts  as  soon  as  they  become  commercial  com- 
modities— and  only  a  few  begin  to  speculate  upon  what 
such  discoveries  suggest,  and  the  other  possibilities  which 
they  could  lead  to.  Nothing  is  supernatural ;  it  is  only 
that  we  are  so  ignorant.  Some  day  I  will  take  you  to 
my  laboratory  in  my  home  in  Russia  and  show  you  the 
result  of  my  experiments  with  vibrations  and  coloured 
lights." 

"I  should  love  that — but  just  now  you  troubled  me — 
you  seemed  to  include  smoking  in  the  things  which 
brought  evil — I  smoke  sometimes." 

"So  do  I — will  you  have  a  Russian  cigarette?" 

He  took  out  his  case  and  offered  her  one,  which  she 
accepted.  "Will  it  bring  something  bad?" 

"Not  more  than  a  glass  of  wine,"  and  he  opened  his 
lighter  and  bent  nearer  to  her.  "One  glass  of  wine 
might  be  good  for  you,  but  twenty  would  make  you  very 
drunk  and  me  very  quarrelsome!" 

They  laughed  softly  and  lit  their  cigarettes. 

"I  feel  when  I  am  with  you  that  I  am  enveloped  in 
some  strong  essence,"  and  Amaryllis  lay  back  with  a 
satisfied  sigh — "as  though  I  were  uplifted  and  awakened 
— it  is  very  curious  because  you  have  such  a  wicked  face, 
but  you  make  me  feel  that  I  want  to  be  good." 

His  queer,  husky  voice  took  on  a  new  note. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  71 

"We  have  met  of  course  in  a  former  life — then  prob- 
ably I  tempted  you  to  break  all  vows — it  was  my  fault. 
So  in  this  life  you  are  to  tempt  me — it  may  be — but  my 
will  has  developed — I  mean  to  resist.  I  want  to  place 
you  as  my  joy  of  the  spirit  this  time — something  which 
is  pure  and  beautiful  apart  from  earthly  things." 

Into  Amaryllis'  mind  there  flashed  the  thought  that  if 
she  saw  him  often,  her  emotions  for  him  might  not  keep 
at  that  high  level!  Her  eyes  perhaps  expressed  this 
doubt,  for  Verisschenzko  bent  nearer. 

"Another  must  fulfil  that  which  must  be  denied  to  me. 
You  are  too  young  to  remain  free  from  emotion.  Hold 
yourself  until  the  right  time  comes." 

Amaryllis  wondered  why  he  should  speak  as  though  it 
were  an  understood  thing  that  she  could  feel  no  emotion 
for  John.  She  resented  this. 

"I  have  my  husband,"  she  answered  with  dignity  and 
a  sweetly  conventional  air. 

Verisschenzko  laughed. 

"You  are  delicious  when  you  say  things  like  that — 
loyal,  and  English,  and  proud.  But  listen,  child — it  is 
waste  of  time  to  have  any  dissimulation  with  me,  we  fin- 
ished all  those  things  when  we  were  lovers  in  our  other 
life.  Now  we  must  be  frank  and  learn  of  each  other. 
Shall  it  not  be  so  ?" 

Amaryllis  felt  a  number  of  things. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,  we  will  always  speak  the  truth." 

"You  see,"  he  went  on,  "if  you  represent  anything  you 
must  never  injure  it ;  you  must  destroy  yourself  if  neces- 
sary in  its  service.  You  represent  an  ideal,  the  ideal  of 
the  perfect  wife  of  the  Ardayres.  You  must  fulfil  this 
role.  I  represent  a  leader  of  certain  thought  in  my  coun- 
try. My  soul  is  given  to  this — I  must  only  indulge  in 


72  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

that  over  which  I  am  master.  Indulgences  are  our  rec- 
ompenses, our  rights,  when  we  have  obtained  dominion 
and  they  have  become  our  slaves;  to  be  enjoyed  only 
when,  and  for  so  long  as,  our  wills  permit.  When  you 
say  a  thing  is  'plus  fort  que  vous' — then  you  had  better 
throw  up  the  sponge — you  have  lost  the  fight,  and  your 
indulgence  will  scourge  you  with  a  scorpion  whip." 

"You  say  this,  and  yet  you  are  so  far  from  being  an 
ascetic !" 

"As  far  as  possible,  I  hope!  They  are  self- 
acknowledged  failures;  they  dare  not  permit  themselves 
the  smallest  indulgence,  they  are  weaklings  afraid  to  en- 
ter the  arena  at  all.  To  me  they  are  at  a  stage  further 
back  than  the  sensualists — what  are  they  accomplishing? 
They  have  withered  nature,  they  are  things  of  nought ! 
A  man  or  woman  should  realise  what  plane  he  or  she  is 
living  on,  and  try  to  live  to  the  highest  of  the  best  of 
the  physical,  mental  and  moral  life  on  that  plane,  but 
not  try  to  alter  all  its  workings,  and  live  as  though  in  a 
different  sphere  altogether,  where  another  scheme  of  na- 
ture obtained.  It  is  colossal  presumption  in  human  be- 
ings to  give  examples  to  be  followed,  which,  should  they 
be  followed,  would  end  the  human  race.  The  Supreme 
Being  will  end  it  in  His  own  time;  it  is  not  for  us  to 
usurp  authority." 

"You  reason  in  this  in  the  same  way  that  you  did  about 
the  smoking." 

"Naturally — that  is  the  only  form  of  sensible  reason- 
ing. You  must  keep  your  judgment  perfectly  balanced 
and  never  let  it  be  obscured  by  prejudice,  tradition,  cus- 
tom, or  anything  but  the  actual  common-sense  view  of 
the  case." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  73 

"I  think  we  English  like  that  better  than  any  other 
quality  in  people — common  sense." 

Verisschenzko  looked  away  from  her  to  a  new  stream 
of  guests  who  had  come  out  on  the  terrace — a  splendid- 
looking  group  of  tall  young  men  and  exquisite  women. 

"With  all  your  faults  you  are  a  great  nation,  because 
although  these  latter  years  seem  often  to  have  destroyed 
the  sense  of  duty  in  the  individual  in.  regard  to  his  own 
life,  the  ingrained  sense  of  it  had  become  a  habit  and  the 
habit  still  continues  in  regard  to  the  community — you  are 
not  likely  to  have  upheavals  of  great  magnitude  here. 
Now  all  other  countries  are  moved  by  different  spirits, 
some  by  patriotism  and  gallantry  like  the  French,  some 
by  superstition  and  ignorance  worked  on  by  mystic  reli- 
gion, as  in  my  country — some  by  ruthless  materialism 
like  Germany ;  but  that  dull,  solid  sense  of  duty  is  purely 
English — and  it  is  really  a  glorious  thing." 

Amaryllis  thought  how  John  represented  it  exactly! 

"I  feel  that  I  want  to  do  my  duty,"  she  said  softly, 
"but  ..." 

"Continue  to  feel  that  and  Fate  will  show  you  the 
way.  Now  I  must  take  you  back  to  your  husband  whom 
I  see  in  the  distance  there-— he  is  with  Harietta  Boleski. 
I  wonder  what  he  thinks  of  her?" 

"I  have  asked  him !  He  says  that  she  is  so  obvious  as 
to  be  innocuous,  and  that  he  likes  her  clothes!" 

Verisschenzko  did  not  answer,  and  Amaryllis  won- 
dered if  he  agreed  with  John ! 

They  had  to  pass  along  a  corridor  to  reach  the  stair- 
case, upon  the  landing  of  which  they  had  seen  Sir  John 
and  Madame  Boleski  leaning  over  the  balustrade,  and 
when  they  got  there  they  had  moved  on  out  of  sight,  so 


74  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Verisschenzko,  bowing,  left  Amaryllis  with  Lady  de  la 
Paule. 

As  he  retraced  his  steps  later  on  he  saw  Sir  John 
Ardayre  in  earnest  conversation  with  Lemon  Bridges, 
the  fashionable  rising  surgeon  of  the  day.  They  stood  in 
an  alcove,  and  Verisschenzko's  alert  intelligence  was 
struck  by  the  expression  on  John  Ardayre's  face — it  was 
so  sad  and  resigned,  as  a  brave  man's  who  has  received 
death  sentence.  And  as  he  passed  close  to  them  he  heard 
these  words  from  John:  "It  is  quite  hopeless  then — I 
feared  so " 

He  stopped  his  descent  for  a  moment  and  looked  again 
— and  then  a  sudden  illumination  came  into  his  yellow- 
green  eyes,  and  he  went  on  down  the  stairs. 

"There  is  tragedy  here — and  how  will  it  affect  the 
Lady  of  my  soul?" 

He  walked  out  of  the  House  and  into  Pall  Mall,  and 
there  by  the  Rag  met  Denzil  Ardayre ! 

"We  seem  doomed  to  have  unexpected  meetings!" 
cried  that  young  man  delightedly.  "Here  I  am  only  up 
for  one  night  on  regimental  business,  and  I  run  into 
you !" 

They  walked  on  together,  and  Denzil  went  into  the 
Ritz  with  Verisschenzko  and  they  smoked  in  his  sitting- 
room.  They  talked  of  many  things  for  a  long  time — of 
the  unrest  in  Europe  and  the  clouds  in  the  Southeast — 
of  Denzil's  political  aims — of  things  in  general — and  at 
last  Verisschenzko  said: 

"I  have  just  left  your  cousin  and  his  wife  at  the  Ger- 
man Embassy;  they  have  now  gone  on  to  a  ball.  He 
makes  an  indulgent  husband — I  suppose  the  affair  is 
going  well?" 

"Very  well  between  them,  I  believe.    That  sickening 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  75 

cad  Ferdinand  is  circulating  rumours — that  they  can 
never  have  any  children — but  they  are  for  his  own  ends. 
I  must  arrange  to  meet  them  when  I  come  up  next  time- — 
I  hear  that  the  family  are  enchanted  with  Amaryllis " 

"She  is  a  thing  of  flesh  and  blood  and  flame — I  could 
love  her  wildly  did  I  think  it  were  wise." 

Denzil  glanced  sharply  at  his  friend.  He  had  not 
often  known  him  to  hesitate  when  attracted  by  a 
woman 

"What  aspect  does  the  unwisdom  take  ?" 

"Certain  absorption — I  have  other  and  terribly  impor- 
tant things  to  do.  The  husband  is  most  worthy — one 
wonders  what  the  next  few  years  will  bring.  Their  tem- 
peraments must  be  as  the  poles." 

"No  one  seems  to  think  of  temperament  when  he  mar- 
ries, or  heredity,  or  anything,  but  just  desire  for  the 
woman — or  her  money — or  something  quite  outside  the 
actual  fact."  Denzil  lit  another  cigarette.  "Marriage 
appears  a  perfect  terror  to  me — how  could  one  know  one 
was  going  to  continue  to  feel  emotion  towards  some  one 
who  might  prove  to  be  the  most  awful  physical  or  mental 
disappointment  on  intimate  acquaintance?  I  believe  af- 
faires de  convenance  selected  with  thought-out  reasoning 
are  the  best." 

Verisschenzko  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That  is  not  necessary.  If  the  brain  is  disciplined,  it 
is  in  a  condition  to  use  its  judgment,  even  when  in  love, 
and  ought  therefore  to  be  able  to  resist  the  desire  to 
mate  if  the  woman's  character  or  tendencies  are  unsuit- 
able, but  most  men's  brains  are  only  disciplined  in  regard 
to  mental  things,  and  have  no  real  control  over  their  phys- 
ical desires.  I  have  been  this  morning  with  Stanislass 
Boleski — there  is  a  case  and  a  warning.  Stanislass  was 


76  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

a  strong  man  with  a  splendid  brain  and  immense  ambi- 
tion, but  no  dominion  over  his  senses,  so  that  Succubus 
has  completely  annihilated  all  force  in  him.  He  should 
have  strangled  her  after  the  first  etreinte  as  I  should  have 
done,  had  I  felt  that  she  could  ever  have  any  power  over 
me!" 

Denzil  smiled — Stepan  was  such  a  mixture  of  tender- 
ness and  complete  savagery. 

"I  always  thought  the  Russian  character  was  the  most 
headstrong  and  undisciplined  in  the  world,  and  took  what 
it  desired  regardless  of  costs.  But  you  belie  it,  old  boy !" 

"I  early  said  to  myself  on  looking  at  my  countrymen — 
and  especially  my  countrywomen — these  people  are  half 
genius,  half  fool ;  they  have  all  the  qualities  and  ruin 
most  of  them  through  being  slaves,  not  masters  to  their 
own  desires.  If  with  his  qualities  a  Russian  could  be 
balanced  and  deductive,  and  rule  his  vagrant  thoughts,  to 
what  height  could  he  not  attain!" 

"And  you  have  attained." 

"I  am  on  the  road,  but  did  not  affairs  of  vital  impor- 
tance occupy  me  at  the  moment  I  might  be  capable  of 
ancient  excess !" 

"It  is  as  well  for  the  head  of  the  Ardayre  family  that 
you  are  occupied  then  !*'  and  Denzil  smiled,  and  then  he 
said,  his  thoughts  drifting  back  to  what  interested  him 
most : 

"You  think  Europe  will  be  blazing  soon,  Stepan?  I 
have  wondered  myself  in  the  last  month  if  this  hectic 
peace  could  continue." 

"It  cannot.  I  am  here  upon  business  with  great  issues, 
but  I  must  not  speak  of  facts,  and  what  I  say  now  is  not 
from  my  knowledge  of  current  events,  -*but  from  my 
study  of  etheric  currents  which  the  thoughts  and  actions 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  77 

of  over-civilised  generations  have  engendered.  You  do 
not  cram  a  shell  with  high  explosives  and  leave  it  among 
matches  with  impunity." 

The  two  men  looked  at  one  another  significantly,  and 
then  Denzil  said: 

"I  think  I  will  not  retire  from  the  old  regiment  yet 
— I  shall  wait  another  year." 

"Yes — I  would  if  I  were  you." 

They  smoked  silently  for  a  moment — Verisschenzko's 
Calmuck  face  fixed  and  inscrutable  and  Denzil's  debon- 
naire  English  one  usually  grave. 

"Some  one  told  me  that  your  friend,  Madame  Boleski, 
was  having  a  tremendous  success  in  London.  I  wish  I 
could  have  got  leave,  I  should  like  to  have  seen  the  whole 
thing." 

"Harietta  is  enjoying  her  luck-moment;  she  is  in  her 
zenith.  She  has  baffled  me  as  to  where  she  receives  her 
information  from — she  is  capable  of  betraying  both  sides 
to  gain  some  material,  and  possibly  trivial,  end.  She  is 
worth  studying  if  you  do  come  up,  for  she  is  unique. 
Most  criminals  have  some  stable  point  in  immorality; 
Harietta  is  troubled  by  nothing  fixed,  no  law  of  God  or 
man  means  anything  to  her,  she  is  only  ruled  by  her 
sense  of  self-preservation.  Her  career  is  picturesque." 

"Had  she  ever  any  children?" 

Verisschenzko  crossed  himself. 

"Heaven  forbid!  Think  of  watching  Harietta's  in- 
stincts coming  out  in  a  child !  Poor  Stanislass  is  at  least 
saved  that!" 

"What  a  terrible  thought  that  would  be  to  one!  But 
no  man  thinks  of  such  things  in  selecting  a  wife !" 

"You  will  not  marry  yet — no?" 

"Certainly  not,  there  is  no  necessity  that  I  should. 


78  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Marriage  is  only  an  obligation  for  the  heads  of  families, 
not  for  the  younger  branches." 

"But  if  Sir  John  Ardayre  has  no  son,  you  are — in 
blood — the  next  direct  heir." 

"And  Ferdinand  is  the  next  direct  heir-in-law — that 
makes  one  sick " 

Verisschenzko  poured  his  friend  out  a  whisky  and  soda 
and  said  smiling: 

"Then  let  us  drink  once  more  to  the  Ardayre  son !" 


CHAPTER  VII 

Lady  de  la  Paule  really  felt  proud  of  her  niece;  the 
party  at  Ardayre  was  progressing  so  perfectly.  The 
guests  had  all  arrived  in  time  for  the  ball  at  Bridgebor- 
ough  Castle  on  the  twenty-third  of  July  and  had  assisted 
next  day  at  the  garden  party,  and  then  a  large  dinner  at 
Ardayre,  and  now  on  the  last  night  of  their  stay 
Amaryllis'  own  ball  was  to  take  place. 

All  the  other  big  country  houses  round  were  filled  also, 
and  nothing  could  have  been  gayer  or  more  splendidly 
done  than  the  whole  thing. 

John  Ardayre  had  been  quite  enthusiastic  about  all  the 
arrangements,  taking  the  greatest  pride  in  settling  every- 
thing which  could  add  lustre  to  his  Amaryllis'  success  as 
a  hostess. 

The  quantities  of  servants,  the  perfectly  turned-out 
motors — the  wonderful  chef — all  had  been  his  doing,  and 
when  most  of  the  party  had  retired  to  their  rooms  for  a 
little  rest  before  dinner  on  the  twenty-fifth,  the  evening 
of  the  ball,  Lady  de  la  Paule  and  John's  friend,  Lady 
Avonwier,  congratulated  him,  as  he  sat  with  them,  the 
last  ladies  remaining,  under  the  great  copper  beech  tree 
on  the  lawn  which  led  down  to  the  lake. 

"Everything  has  been  perfect,  has  it  not,  Mabella?" 
Lady  Avonwier  said.  "I  have  even  been  converted 
about  your  marvellous  Madame  Boleski !  I  confess  I 
have  avoided  her  all  the  season,  because  we  Americans 
are  far  more  exclusive  than  you  English  people  in  regard 
79 


80  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

to  whom  we  know  of  our  own  countrywomen,  and  no 
one  would  receive  such  a  person  in  New  York,  but  she 
is  so  luridly  stupid,  and  such  a  decoration,  that  I  quite 
agree  you  were  right  to  invite  her,  John." 

"She  seems  to  me  charming,"  Lady  de  la  Paule  con- 
fessed. "Not  the  least  pretension,  and  her  clothes  are 
marvellous.  You  are  abominably  severe,  Etta.  I  am 
quite  sure  if  she  wanted  to  she  could  succeed  in  New 
York." 

"Mabella,  you  simple  creature!  She  just  cajoles  you 
all  the  time — she  has  specialised  in  cajoling  important 
great  ladies!  No  American  would  be  taken  in  by  her, 
and  we  resent  it  in  our  country  when  an  outsider  like 
that  barges  in.  But  here,  I  admit,  since  she  provides  us 
with  amusement,  I  have  no  objection  to  accepting  her, 
as  I  would  a  new  nigger  band,  and  shall  certainly  send 
her  a  card  for  my  fancy  ball  next  week." 

John  Ardayre  chuckled  softly. 

"That  sound  indicates?" — and  Etta  Avonwier  flashed 
at  him  her  lovely  clever  eyes. 

John  Ardayre  did  not  answer  in  words,  but  both 
women  joined  in  his  smile. 

"Yes,  we  are  worldlings,"  Lady  Avonwier  admitted, 
"just  measuring  people  up  for  what  they  can  give  us, 
it  is  the  only  way  though  when  the  whole  thing  is  such 
a  rush!" 

"I  am  so  sorry  for  the  poor  husband,"  and  Lady  de  la 
Paule 's  fat  voice  was  kindly.  "He  does  look  such  a 
wretched,  cadaverous  thing,  with  that  black  beard  and 
those  melancholy  black  eyes,  and  emaciated  face.  Do 
you  think  she  beats  him  when  they  are  alone?" 

"Who  knows  ?  She  is  so  primitive,  she  may  be  capable 
even  of  that !" 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  81 

"Her  clothes  are  not  primitive,"  and  John  Ardayre 
lighted  a  cigarette.  "I  don't  think  she  really  can  be 
such  a  fool." 

"I  never  suggested  that  she  was  a  fool  at  all !"  Lady 
Avonwier  was  decisive.  "No  one  can  be  a  fool  who  is 
as  tenacious  as  she  is — fools  are  vague  people,  who  let 
things  go.  She  is  merely  illiterate  and  stupid  as  an  owl." 

"I  like  your  distinction  between  stupidity  and  foolish- 
ness !"  John  Ardayre  often  argued  with  Lady  Avonwier ; 
they  were  excellent  friends. 

"A  stupid  person  is  often  a  great  rest  and  arrives — a 
fool  makes  one  nervous  and  loses  the  game.  But  who  is 
that  walking  with  Amaryllis  at  the  other  side  of  the 
lake?" 

John  Ardayre  looked  up,  and  on  over  the  water  to  the 
glory  of  the  beech  trees  on  the  rising  slope  of  the  park, 
and  there  saw  moving  at  the  edge  of  them  his  wife  and 
Verisschenzko,  accompanied  by  two  of  the  great  tawny 


"Oh!  it  is  the  interesting  Russian  whom  we  met  in 
Paris,  where  all  the  charming  ladies  were  supposed  to  be 
in  love  with  him.  He  was  to  have  come  down  for  the 
whole  three  days.  I  suppose  these  Russian  and  Austrian 
rumours  detained  him,  he  has  only  arrived  for  to-night." 

And  across  the  lake  Amaryllis  was  saying  to  Veris- 
schenzko in  her  soft  voice,  deep  as  all  the  Ardayre  voices 
were  deep: 

"I  have  brought  you  here  so  that  you  may  get  the 
best  view  of  the  house.  I  think,  indeed,  that  it  is  very 
beautiful  from  over  the  water,  do  not  you  ?" 

Verisschenzko  remained  silent  for  a  moment.  His 
face  was  altered  in  this  last  week;  it  looked  haggard  and 


82  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

thinner,  and  his  peculiar  eyes  were  concentrated  and 
intense. 

He  took  in  the  perfect  picture  of  this  English  stately 
home,  with  its  Henry  VII.  centre  and  watch  towers,  and 
gabled  main  buildings,  and  the  Queen  Anne  added  Square 
— all  mellowed  and  amalgamated  into  a  whole  of  exquisite 
beauty  and  dignity  in  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun. 

"How  proud  you  should  be  of  such  possessions,  you 
English.  The  accumulation  of  centuries,  conserved  by 
freedom  from  strife.  It  is  no  wonder  you  are  so  arro- 
gant! You  could  not  be  if  you  had  only  memories,  as 
we  have,  of  wooden  barracks  up  to  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago,  and  drunkenness  and  orgies,  and  beating  of 
serfs.  This  is  the  picture  our  country  houses  call  up — 
any  of  the  older  ones  which  have  escaped  being  burnt. 
But  here  you  have  traditions  of  harmony  and  justice  and 
obligations  to  the  people  nobody  fulfilled."  And  then  he 
took  his  hat  off  and  looked  up  into  the  golden  sky : 

"May  nothing  happen  to  hurt  England,  and  may  we 
one  day  be  as  free." 

A  shiver  ran  through  Amaryllis — but  something  kept 
her  silent ;  she  divined  that  her  friend's  mood  did  not 
desire  speech  from  her  yet.  He  spoke  again  and  ear- 
nestly a  moment  or  two  afterwards. 

"Lady  of  my  soul — I  am  going  away  to-morrow  into 
a  frenzied  turmoil.  I  have  news  from  my  country,  and 
I  must  be  in  the  centre  of  events;  we  do  not  know  what 
will  come  of  it  all.  I  come  down  to-day  at  great  sacrifice 
of  time  to  bid  you  farewell.  It  may  be  that  I  shall  never 
see  you  again,  though  I  think  that  I  shall ;  but  should  I 
not,  promise  me  that  you  will  remain  my  star  unsmirched 
by  the  paltriness  of  the  world,  promise  me  that  you  will 
live  up  to  the  ideal  of  this  noble  home — that  you  will 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  83 

develop  your  brain  and  your  intuition,  that  you  will  be 
forceful  and  filled  with  common  sense.  I  would  like  to 
have  moulded  your  spiritual  being,  and  brought  you  to 
the  highest,  but  it  is  not  for  me,  perhaps,  in  this  life — 
another  will  come.  See  that  you  live  worthily." 

Amaryllis  was  deeply  moved. 

"Indeed,  I  will  try.  I  have  seen  so  little  of  you,  but  I 
feel  that  I  have  known  you  always,  and — yes — even  I 
feel  that  it  is  true  what  you  said,"  and  she  grew  rosy  with 
a  sweet  confusion — "that  we  were — lovers — I  am  so 
ignorant  and  undeveloped,  not  advanced  like  you,  but 
when  you  speak  you  seem  to  awaken  memories ;  it  is  as 
though  a  transitory  light  gleamed  in  dark  places,  and  I 
receive  flashes  of  understanding,  and  then  it  grows  ob- 
scured again,  but  I  will  try  to  seize  and  hold  it — indeed, 
I  will  try  to  do  as  you  would  wish." 

They  both  looked  ahead,  straight  at  the  splendid  house, 
and  then  Amaryllis  looked  at  Verisschenzko  and  it 
seemed  as  though  his  face  were  transfigured  with  some 
inward  light. 

"Strange  things  are  coming,  child,  the  cauldron  has 
boiled  over,  and  we  do  not  know  what  the  stream  may 
engulf.  Think  of  this  evening  in  the  days  which  will 
be,  and  remember  my  words." 

His  voice  vibrated,  but  he  did  not  look  at  her,  but  al- 
ways across  the  lake  at  the  house. 

"Whenever  you  are  in  doubt  as  to  the  wisdom  of  a 
decision  between  two  courses — put  them  to  the  test  of 
which,  if  you  follow  it,  will  enable  you  to  respect  your 
own  soul.  Never  do  that  which  the  inward  You 
despises." 

"And  if  both  courses  look  equally  good  and  it  is  merely 
a  question  of  earthly  benefit?" 


84  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Verisschenzko  smiled. 

"Never  be  vague.  There  is  an  Arab  proverb  which 
says :  Trust  in  God  but  tie  up  your  camel." 

The  setting  sun  was  throwing  its  last  gleams  upon  the 
windows  of  the  high  tower.  Nothing  more  beautiful  or 
impressive  could  have  been  imagined  than  the  scene. 
The  velvet  lawn  sloping  down  to  the  lake,  with  a  group 
of  trees  to  the  right  among  which  nestled  the  tiny  cruci- 
form ancient  church,  while  in  the  distance,  on  all  sides, 
stretched  the  vast,  gloriously  timbered  park. 

Verisschenzko  gazed  at  the  wonder  of  it,  and  his 
yellow-green  eyes  were  wide  with  the  vision  it  created 
in  his  brain. 

No — this  should  never  go  to  the  bastard  Ferdinand, 
whose  life  in  Constantinople  was  a  disgrace.  This  rec- 
ord of  fine  living  and  achievement  of  worthy  Ardayres 
should  remain  the  glory  of  the  true  blood. 

He  turned  and  looked  at  Amaryllis  at  his  side,  so  slen- 
der, and  strong,  and  young — and  he  said: 

"It  is  necessary  above  all  things  that  you  cultivate  a 
steadiness  and  clearness  of  judgment,  which  will  enable 
you  to  see  the  great  aim  in  a  thing,  and  not  be  hampered 
by  sentimental  jingo  and  convention,  which  is  a  danger 
when  a  nature  is  as  good  and  true,  but  as  undeveloped,  as 
yours.  Whatever  circumstance  should  arise  in  your  life, 
in  relation  to  the  trust  you  hold  for  this  family  and  this 
home,  bring  the  keenest  common  sense  to  bear  upon  the 
matter,  and  keep  the  end,  that  you  must  uphold  it  and 
pass  it  on  resplendent,  in  view." 

Amaryllis  felt  that  he  was  transmitting  some  message 
to  her.  His  eyes  were  full  of  inspiration  and  seemed  to 
see  beyond. 

What  message?     She  refrained   from  asking.-    If   he 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  85 

had  meant  her  to  understand  more  fully  he  would  have 
told  her  plainly.  Light  would  come  in  its-  own  time. 

"I  promise,"  was  all  she  said. 

They  looked  at  the  great  tower ;  the  sun  had  left  some 
of  the  windows  and  in  one  they  could  see  the  figure  of  a 
woman  standing  there  in  some  light  dressing-gown. 

"That  is  Harietta  Boleski,"  Verisschenzko  remarked, 
his  mood  changing,  and  that  penetrating  and  yet  inscru- 
table expression  growing  in  his  regard.  "It  is  almost 
too  far  away  to  be  certain,  but  I  am  sure  that  it  is  she. 
Am  I  right?  Is  that  window  in  her  room?" 

"Yes — how  wonderful  of  you  to  be  able  to  recognise 
her  at  that  distance!" 

"Of  what  is  she  thinking? — if  one  can  call  her  plan- 
ning thoughts !  She  does  not  gaze  at  views  to  appreciate 
the  loveliness  of  the  landscape ;  figures  in  the  scene  are 
all  which  could  hold  her  attention — and  those  figures  are 
you  and  me." 

"Why  should  we  interest  her?" 

"There  are  one  or  two  reasons  why  we  should.  I 
think  after  all  you  must  be  very  careful  of  her.  I  believe 
if  she  stays  on  in  England  you  had  better  not  let  the 
acquaintance  increase." 

"Very  well."  Amaryllis  again  did  not  question  him; 
she  felt  he  knew  best. 

"She  has  been  most  successful  here,  and  at  the  Bridge- 
borough  ball  she  amused  herself  with  a  German  officer, 
and  left  the  other  women's  men  alone.  He  was  brought 
by  the  party  from  Broomgrove  and  was  most  empresse; 
he  got  introduced  to  her  at  once — just  after  we  came  in. 
I  expect  they  will  bring  him  to-night.  He  and  she  looked 
such  a  magnificent  pair,  dancing  a  quadrille.  It  was 
quite  a  sferious  ball  to  begin  with !  None  of  those  dances 


86  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

of  which  you  disapprove,  and  all  the  Yeomanry  wore 
their  uniforms  and  the  German  officer  wore  his  too." 

"He  was  a  fine  animal,  then?" 

"Yes— but?" 

"You  said  a  pair — only  an  animal  could  make  a  pair 
with  Harietta !  Describe  him  to  me.  What  was  he  like  ? 
And  what  uniform  did  he  wear?" 

Amaryllis  gave  a  description,  of  height,  and  fairness, 
and  of  the  blue  and  gold  coat. 

"He  would  have  been  really  good-looking,  only  that 
to  our  eyes  his  hips  are  too  wide." 

"It  sounds  typically  German — there  are  hundreds  such 
there — some  ordinary  Prussian  Infantry  regiment,  I  ex- 
pect. You  say  he  was  introduced  to  Harietta?  They 
were  not  old  friends — no?" 

"I  heard  him  ask  Mrs.  Nordenheimer,  his  hostess,  who 
she  was,  in  his  guttural  voice,  and  Mrs.  Nordenheimer 
came  up  to  me  and  presented  him  and  asked  me  to  in- 
troduce him  to  my  guest.  So  I  did.  The  Nordenheim- 
ers  are  those  very  rich  German  Jews  who  bought  Broom- 
grove  Park  some  years  ago.  Every  one  receives  them 
now." 

"And  how  did  Harietta  welcome  this  partner?" 

"She  looked  a  little  bored,  but  afterwards  they  danced 
several  times  together." 

"Ah!" — and  that  was  all  Verisschenzko  said,  but  his 
thoughts  ran :  "An  infantry  officer — not  a  large  enough 
capture  for  Harietta  to  waste  time  on  in  a  public  place — 
when  she  is  here  to  advance  herself.  She  danced  with 
him  because  she  was  obliged  to.  I  must  ascertain  who 
this  man  is." 

Amaryllis  saw  that  he  was  preoccupied.  They  walked 
on  now  and  round  through  the  shrubbery  on  the  left,  and 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  87 

so  at  last  to  the  house  again.  Amaryllis  could  not  chance 
being  late. 

Verisschenzko  recovered  from  his  abstraction  presently 
and  talked  of  many  things — of  the  friendship  of  the  soul, 
and  how  it  can  only  thrive  after  there  has  been  in  some 
life  a  physical  passionate  love  and  fusion  of  the  bodies. 

"I  want  to  think  that  we  have  reached  this  stage,  Lady 
mine.  My  mission  on  this  plane  now  is  so  fierce  a  one, 
and  the  work  which  I  must  do  is  so  absorbing,  that  I 
must  renounce  all  but  transient  physical  pleasures.  But 
I  must  keep  some  radiant  star  as  my  lodestone  for  spirit- 
ual delights,  and  ever  since  we  met  and  spoke  at  the  Rus- 
sian Embassy  it  seems  as  though  step  by  step  links  of 
memory  are  awakening  and  comforting  me  with  knowl- 
edge of  satisfied  desire  in  a  former  birth,  so  that  now  our 
souls  can  rise  to  rarer  things.  I  can  even  see  another 
in  the  earthly  relation  which  once  was  mine,  without 
jealousy.  Child,  do  you  feel  this  too?" 

"I  do  not  know  quite  what  I  feel,"  and  Amaryllis 
looked  down,  "but  I  will  try  to  show  you  that  I  am  learn- 
ing to  master  my  emotions,  by  thinking  only  of  sympathy 
between  our  spirits." 

"It  is  well " 

Then  they  reached  the  house  and  entered  the  green 
drawing-room  in  the  Queen  Anne  Square,  by  one  of  the 
wide  open  windows,  and  there  Amaryllis  held  out  her 
two  slim  hands  to  Verisschenzko. 

"Think  of  me  sometimes,  even  amidst  your  turmoil," 
she  whispered,  "and  I  shall  feel  your  ambience  uplifting 
my  spirit  and  my  will." 

"Lady  of  my  Soul!"  he  cried,  exalted  once  more,  and 
he  bent  as  though  to  kiss  her  hands,  but  straightened 
himself  and  threw  them  gently  from  him. 


88  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"No!  I  will  resist  all  temptations!  Now  you  must 
dress  and  dine,  and  dance,  and  do  your  duty — and  later 
we  will  say  farewell." 

Harietta  Boleski  stamped  across  her  charming  chintz 
chamber  in  the  great  tower.  She  was  like  an  angry  wolf 
in  the  Zoo, ,  she  burst  with  rage.  Verisschenzko  had 
never  walked  by  lakes  with  her,  nor  bent  over  with  that 
air  of  devotion. 

"He  loves  that  hateful  bit  of  bread  and  butter !  But  I 
shall  crush  her  yet — and  Ferdinand  Ardayre  will  help 
me!" 

Then  she  rang  her  bell  violently  for  Marie,  while  she 
kicked  aside  Fou-Chow,  who  had  travelled  to  England 
as  an  adjunct  to  her  beauty,  concealed  in  a  cloak.  His 
minute  body  quivered  with  pain  and  fear,  and  he  looked 
up  at  her  reproachfully  with  his  round  Chinese  idol's 
eyes,  then  he  hid  under  a  chair,  where  Marie  found  him 
trembling  presently  and  carried  him  surreptitiously  to  her 
room. 

"My  angel,"  she  told  him  as  they  went  along  the  pas- 
sage, "that  she-devil  will  kill  thee  one  day,  unless  happily 
I  can  place  thee  in  safety  first.  But  if  she  does,  then  I 
will  murder  for  myself !  What  has  caused  her  fury  to- 
night, some  one  has  spoilt  her  game." 

In  the  oak-panelled  smoking  room,  deserted  by  all  but 
these  two,  Verisschenzko  spoke  to  Stanislass,  hastily,  and 
in  his  own  tongue. 

"The  news  is  of  vital  importance,  Stanislass.  You 
must  return  with  me  to  London;  of  all  things  you  must 
show  energy  now  and  hold  your  men  together.  I  leave 
in  the  morning.  You  hesitate  ! — impossible ! — Harietta 
keeps  you!  Bah! — then  I  wash  my  hands  of  you  and 
Poland.  Weakling!  to  let  a  woman  rule  you.  Well;  if 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  89 

you  choose  thus,  you  can  go  by  yourself  to  hell.  I  have 
done  with  you."  And  he  strode  from  the  room,  looking 
more  Calmuck  and  savage  than  ever  in  his  just  wrath. 
And  when  he  had  gone  the  second  husband  of  Harietta 
leant  forward  and  buried  his  head  in  his  hands. 

The  picture  Gallery  made  a  brilliant  setting  for  that 
gallant  company!  A  collection  of  England's  best,  danc- 
ing their  hardest  to  a  stirring  band,  which  sang  when 
the  tune  of  some  popular  Revue  chorus  came  in. 

"The  Song  of  the  Swan,"  Verisschenzko  thought  as 
he  observed  it  all  in  the  last  few  minutes  before  mid- 
night. He  must  go  away  soon.  A  messenger  had  ar- 
rived in  hot  haste  from  London,  motoring  beyond  the 
speed  limit,  and  as  soon  as  his  servant  had  packed  his 
things  he  must  return  and  not  wait  for  the  morning.  All 
relations  between  Austria  and  Servia  had  been  broken 
off,  the  conflagration  had  begun,  and  no  time  must  be 
wasted  further.  He  must  be  in  Russia  as  soon  as  it  was 
possible  to  get  there.  He  blamed  himself  for  coming 
down. 

"And  yet  it  was  as  well,"  he  reflected,  because  he  had 
become  awakened  in  regard  to  possible  double  dealing  in 
Harietta.  But  where  were  his  host  and  hostess — he  must 
bid  them  farewell. 

John  Ardayre  was  valsing  with  Lady  Avonwier  and 
Harietta  Boleski  undulated  in  the  arms  of  the  tall  Ger- 
man who  had  come  with  the  party  from  Broomgrove — 
but  Amaryllis  for  the  moment  was  absent  from  the  room. 

"If  I  could  only  know  who  the  beast  is  before  I  go, 
and  where  she  has  met  him  previously!"  Verisschenzko's 
thoughts  ran.  "It  is  more  than  ever  necessary  that  I 
master  her — and  there  is  so  little  time." 


90  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

He  waited  for  a  few  seconds,  the  dance  was  almost 
done,  and  when  the  last  notes  of  music  ceased  and  the 
throng  of  people  swept  towards  him,  he  fixed  Harietta 
with  his  eye. 

Her  evening  so  far  had  not  been  agreeable.  She  had 
not  been  able  to  have  a  word  with  Stepan,  who  had  been 
far  from  her  at  the  banquet  before  the  ball.  She  was 
torn  with  jealousy  of  Amaryllis ;  and  the  advent  of  Hans, 
when  she  would  have  wished  to  have  been  free  to  re-grab 
Verisschenzko,  was  most  unfortunate.  It  had  not  been 
altogether  pleasant,  his  turning  up  at  Bridgeborough,  but 
at  any  rate  that  one  evening  was  quite  enough!  She 
really  could  not  be  wearied  with  him  more ! 

His  new  instructions  to  her  from  the  higher  command 
were  most  annoyingly  difficult  too — coming  at  a  time 
when  her  whole  mind  was  given  to  consolidating  her 
position  in  England, — it  was  really  too  bad! 

If  only  the  tiresome  bothers  of  these  stupid  old  quar- 
relsome countries  did  not  upset  matters,  she  just  meant 
to  make  Stanislass  shut  up  his  ugly  old  Polish  home, 
and  settle  in  some  splendid  country  house  like  this,  only 
nearer  London.  Now  that  she  had  seen  what  life  was 
in  England,  she  knew  that  this  was  her  goal.  No  bother- 
some old  other  language  to  be  learned!  Besides,  no  men 
were  so  good-looking  as  the  English,  or  made  such  safe 
and  prudent  lovers,  because  they  did  not  boast.  If  any 
information  she  had  been  able  to  collect  for  Hans  in  the 
last  year  had  helped  his  Ober-Lords  to  stir  up  trouble, 
she  was  almost  sorry  she  had  given  it — unless  indeed, 
ructions  between  those  ridiculous  southern  countries 
made  it  so  that  she  could  remain  in  England,  then  it  was 
a  good  thing.  And  Hans  had  assured  her  that  England 
could  not  be  dragged  in.  Then  she  laughed  to  herself  as 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  91 

she  always  did  if  Hans  coerced  her — when  she  recollected 
how  she  had  given  his  secrets  away  to  Verisschenzko  and 
that  no  matter  how  he  seemed  to  compel  her  obedience, 
she  was  even  with  him  underneath! 

She  looked  now  at  the  Russian  standing  there,  so  tall 
and  ugly,  and  weirdly  distinguished,  and  a  wild  passionate 
desire  for  him  overcame  her,  as  primitive  as  one  a  savage 
might  have  felt.  At  that  moment  she  almost  hated  her 
late  husband,  for  she  dared  not  speak  to  Verisschenzko 
with  Hans  there.  She  must  wait  until  Verisschenzko 
spoke  to  her.  Hans  could  not  prevent  that,  nor  accuse 
her  of  disobeying  his  command.  So  that  it  was  with  joy 
that  she  saw  the  Russian  approach  her.  She  did  not 
know  that  he  was  leaving  suddenly,  and  she  was  wonder- 
ing if  some  meeting  could  not  be  arranged  for  later  on, 
when  Hans  would  be  gone. 

"Good  evening,  Madame !"  Verisschenzko  said  suavely. 
"May  I  not  have  the  pleasure  of  a  turn  with  you;  it  is 
delightful  to  meet  you  again." 

Harietta  slipped  her  hand  out  of  Hans'  arm  and  stood 
still,  determined  to  secure  Stepan  at  once  since  the  chance 
had  come. 

Verisschenzko  divined  her  intention  and  continued,  his 
voice  serious  with  its  mock  respect: 

"I  wonder  if  I  could  persuade  you  to  come  with  me 
and  find  your  husband.  You  know  the  house  and  I  do 
not.  I  have  something  I  want  to  talk  to  him  about  if 
you  won't  think  me  a  great  bore  taking  you  from  your 
partner,"  and  he  bowed  politely  to  Hans. 

Harietta  introduced  them  casually,  and  then  said 
archly : 

"I  am  sure  you  will  excuse  me,  Captain  von  Pickel- 
heim.  And  don't  forget  you  have  the  first  one-step  after 


92  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 


Verisschenzko  had  watched  the  German  covertly  and 
saw  that  with  all  his  forced  stolidity  an  angry  gleam  had 
come  into  his  eyes. 

"They  have  certainly  met  before — and  he  knows  me — 
I  must  somehow  make  time,"  then,  aloud : 

"You  are  looking  a  dream  of  beauty  to-night,  Har- 
ietta," he  told  her  as  they  walked  across  the  hall.  "Is 
there  not  some  quiet  corner  in  the  garden  where  we  can 
be  alone  for  a  few  minutes.  You  drive  me  mad." 

Harietta  loved  to  hear  this,  and  in  triumph  she  raised 
her  head  and  drew  him  into  one  of  the  sitting-rooms,  and 
so  out  of  the  open  windows  on  into  the  darkness  beyond 
the  limitations  of  the  lawn. 

Twenty  minutes  afterwards  Verisschenzko  entered  the 
house  alone,  a  grim  smile  of  satisfaction  upon  his  rugged 
countenance.  Jealousy,  acting  on  animal  passion,  had 
been  for  once  as  productive  of  information  as  a  ruby 
ring  or  brooch — and  what  a  remarkable  type  Harietta! 
Could  there  be  anything  more  elemental  on  the  earth ! 
Meanwhile  this  lady  had  gained  the  ball-room  by  another 
door,  delighted  with  her  adventure,  and  the  thought  that 
she  had  tricked  Hans ! 

"Have  you  seen  our  hostess,  Madame?"  the  Russian 
asked,  meeting  Lady  de  la  Paule.  "I  have  been  looking 
for  her  everywhere.  Is  not  this  a  charming  sight?" 

They  stayed  and  talked  for  a  few  minutes,  watching 
the  joyous  company  of  dancers,  among  whom  Amaryllis 
could  now  be  seen.  Verisschenzko  wished  to  say  fare- 
well to  her  when  the  one-step  should  be  done.  They 
would  all  be  going  into  supper,  and  then  would  be  his 
chance.  He  could  not  delay  longer — he  must  be  gone. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  93 

He  was  paying  little  attention  to  what  Lady  de  la  Paule 
was  saying — her  fat  voice  prattled  on: 

"I  hope  these  tiresome  little  quarrels  of  the  Balkan 
peoples  will  settle  themselves.  If  Austria  should  go  to 
war  with  Servia,  it  may  upset  my  Carlsbad  cure." 

Then  he  laughed  out  suddenly,  but  instantly  checked 
himself. 

"That  would  be  too  unfortunate,  Madame,  we  must  not 
anticipate  such  preposterous  happenings !" 

And  as  he  walked  forward  to  meet  Amaryllis  his  face 
was  set: 

"Half  the  civilised  world  thinks  thus  of  things.  The 
sinister  events  in  the  Balkans  convey  no  suggestions  of 
danger,  and  only  matter  in  that  they  could  upset  a  Carls- 
bad cure !  Alas !  how  sound  asleep  these  splendid  people 
are!" 

He  met  Amaryllis  and  briefly  told  her  that  he  must 
go.  She  left  her  partner  and  came  with  him  to  the  foot 
of  the  staircase,  which  led  to  his  room. 

"Good-bye,  and  God  keep  you,"  she  said  feelingly,  but 
she  noticed  that  he  did  not  even  offer  to  take  her  hand. 

"All  blessings,  my  Star,"  and  his  voice  was  hoarse, 
then  he  turned  abruptly  and  went  on  up  the  stairs.  But 
when  he  reached  the  landing  above  he  paused,  and  looked 
down  at  her,  moving  away  among  the  throng. 

"Sweet  Lady  of  my  Soul,"  he  whispered  softly.  "Af- 
ter Harietta  I  could  not  soil — even  thy  glove!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Events  moved  rapidly.  Of  what  use  to  write  of  those 
restless,  feverish  days  before  the  4th  of  August,  1914? 
They  are  too  well  known  to  all  the  world.  John,  as  ever, 
did  his  duty,  and  at  once  put  his  name  down  for  active 
service,  cajoled  a  medical  board  which  would  otherwise 
probably  have  condemned  him  and  trained  with  the  North 
Somerset  Yeomanry  in  anticipation  of  being  soon  sent 
to  France.  But  before  all  this  happened,  the  night  War 
was  declared ;  he  remained  in  his  own  sitting-room  at  Ar- 
dayre,  and  Amaryllis  wondered,  and  towards  dawn  crept 
out  of  bed  and  listened  in  the  passage,  but  no  sound  came 
from  within  the  room. 

How  very  unsatisfactory  this  strange  reserve  between 
them  was  becoming!  Would  she  never  be  able  to  sur- 
mount it?  Must  they  go  on  to  the  end  of  their  lives, 
living  like  two  polite  friendly  acquaintances,  neither  shar- 
ing the  other's  thoughts?  She  hardly  realised  that  the 
War  could  personally  concern  John.  The  Yeomanry, 
she  imagined,  were  only  for  home  defence,  so  at  this 
stage  no  anxiety  troubled  her  about  her  husband. 

The  next  day  he  seemed  frightfully  preoccupied,  and 
then  he  talked  to  her  seriously  of  their  home  and  its  tra- 
ditions, and  how  she  must  love  it  and  understand  its 
meaning.  He  spoke  too  of  his  great  wish  for  a  child — 
and  Amaryllis  wondered  at  the  tone  almost  of  anguish  in 
his  voice. 

"If  only  we  had  a  son,  Amaryllis,  I  would  not  care 
94 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  95 

what  came  to  me.  A  true  Ardayre  to  carry  on!  The 
thought  of  Ferdinand  here  after  me  drives  me  perfectly 
mad !" 

Amaryllis  knew  not  what  to  answer.  She  looked  down 
and  clasped  her  hands. 

John  came  quite  close  and  gazed  into  her  face,  as  if 
therein  some  comfort  could  be  found;  then  he  folded 
her  in  his  arms. 

"Oh!  Amaryllis!"  he  said,  and  that  was  all. 

"What  is  it?  Oh!  what  does  everything  mean?"  the 
poor  child  cried.  "Why,  why  can't  we  have  a  son  like 
other  people  of  our  age?" 

John  kissed  her  again. 

"It  shall  be — it  must  be  so,"  he  answered — and  framed 
her  face  in  his  hands. 

"Amaryllis — I  know  you  have  often  wondered  whether 
I  really  loved  you.  You  have  found  me  a  stupid,  unsat- 
isfactory sort  of  husband — indeed,  I  am  but  a  dull  com- 
panion at  the  best  of  times.  Well,  I  want  you  to  know 
that  I  do — and  I  am  going  to  try  to  change,  dear  little 
girl.  If  I  knew  that  I  held  some  corner  of  your  heart 
it  would  comfort  me." 

"Of  course,  you  do,  John.  Alas !  if  you  would  only 
unbend  and  be  loving  to  me,  how  happy  we  could  be." 

He  kissed  her  once  more.     "I  will  try." 

That  afternoon  he  went  up  to  London  to  his  med- 
ical board,  and  Amaryllis  was  to  join  him  in  Brook  Street 
on  the  following  day. 

She  was  stunned  like  every  one  else.  War  seemed  a 
nightmare — an  unreality — she  had  not  grasped  its  mean- 
ing as  yet.  She  thought  of  Verisschenzko  and  his  words. 
What  was  her  duty?  Surely  at  a  great  crisis  like  this 
she  must  have  some  duty  to  do? 


96  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

The  library  in  Brook  Street  was  a  comfortable  room 
and  was  always  their  general  sitting-room;  its  windows 
looked  out  on  the  street. 

That  evening  when  John  Ardayre  arrived  he  paced  up 
and  down  it  for  half  an  hour.  He  was  very  pale  and 
lines  of  thought  were  stamped  upon  his  brow. 

He  had  come  to  a  decision;  there  only  remained  the 
details  of  a  course  of  action  to  be  arranged. 

He  went  to  the  telephone  and  called  up  the  Cavalry 
Club.  Yes,  Captain  Ardayre  was  in,  and  presently 
Denzil's  voice  said  surprisedly: 

"Hullo!" 

"I  heard  by  chance  that  you  were  in  town.  I  suppose 
your  regiment  will  be  going  out  at  once.  It  is  your 
cousin,  John  Ardayre,  speaking,  we  have  not  met  since 
you  were  a  boy.  I  have  something  rather  vital  I  want 
to  say  to  you.  Could  you  possibly  come  round?" 

The  two  voices  were  so  alike  in  tone  it  was  quite 
remarkable,  each  was  aware  of  it  as  he  listened  to  the 
other. 

"Where  are  you,  and  what  is  the  time?" 

"I  am  in  our  house  in  Brook  Street,  number  102, 
and  it  is  nearly  seven.  Could  you  manage  to  come 
now  ?" 

There  was  a  second  or  two's  pause,  then  Denzil  said: 

"All  right.  I  will  get  into  a  taxi  and  be  with  you  in 
about  five  minutes,"  and  he  put  the  receiver  down. 

John  Ardayre  grew  paler  still,  and  sank  into  a  chair. 
His  hands  were  trembling,  this  sign  of  weakness  angered 
him  and  he  got  up  and  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  his  valet 
who  had  come  up  with  him,  to  bring  him  some  brandy. 

Murcheson  was  an  old  and  valued  servant,  and  he 
looked  at  his  master  with  concern,  but  he  knew  him  too 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  97 

well  to  make  any  remark.  If  there  was  any  one  in  the 
world  beyond  the  great  surgeon,  Lemon  Bridges,  who 
could  understand  the  preoccupations  of  John  Ardayre, 
Murcheson  was  the  man. 

He  brought  the  old  Cognac  immediately  and  retired 
from  the  room  a  moment  or  two  before  Denzil  arrived. 
Very  little  trace  of  emotion  remained  upon  the  face  of 
the  head  of  the  family  when  his  cousin  was  shown  in,  and 
he  came  forward  cordially  to  meet  him.  Standing  op- 
posite one  another,  they  might  have  been  brothers,  not 
cousins,  the  resemblance  was  so  strong!  Denzil  was  per- 
haps fairer,  but  their  heads  were  both  small  and  their 
limbs  had  the  same  long  lines.  But  where  as  John  Ar- 
dayre suggested  undemonstrative  stolidity,  every  atom  of 
the  younger  man  was  vitally  alive. 

His  eyes  were  bluer,  his  hair  more  bronze,  and 
exuberant  perfect  health  glowed  in  his  tanned  fresh  skin. 

Both  their  voices  were  peculiarly  deep,  with  the  pro- 
nunciation of  the  words  especially  refined.  John  Ar- 
dayre said  some  civil  things  with  composure,  and  Denzil 
replied  in  kind,  explaining  how  he  had  been  most  anxious 
to  meet  John  and  Amaryllis  and  heal  the  breach  the 
fathers  had  made. 

John  offered  him  a  cigar,  and  finally  the  atmosphere 
seemed  to  be  unfrozen  as  they  smoked.  But  in  Denzil's 
mind  there  was  speculation.  It  was  not  for  just  this  that 
he  had  been  asked  to  come  round. 

John  began  to  speak  presently  with  a  note  of  deep 
seriousness  in  his  voice.  He  talked  of  the  war  and  of  his 
Yeomanry's  going  out,  and  of  Denzil's  regiment  also. 
It  was  quite  on  the  cards  that  they  might  both  be  killed — 
then  he  spoke  of  Ferdinand,  and  the  old  story  of  the 
shame,  and  he  told  Denzil  of  his  boyhood  and  its  great 


98  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

trials,  and  of  his  determination  to  redeem  the  family 
home  and  of  the  great  luck  which  had  befallen  him  in 
the  city  after  the  South  African  War — and  how  that  the 
thought  of  worthily  handing  on  the  inheritance  in  the 
direct  male  line  had  become  the  dominating  desire  of  his 
life. 

At  first  his  manner  had  been  very  restrained,  but  grad- 
ually the  intense  feeling  which  was  vibrating  in  him  made 
itself  known,  and  Denzil  grew  to  realise  how  profound 
was  his  love  for  Ardayre  and  how  great  his  family  pride. 

But  underneath  all  this  some  absolute  agony  must  be 
wringing  his  soul. 

Denzil  became  increasingly  interested. 

At  last  John  seemed  to  have  come  to  a  very  difficult 
part  of  his  narration ;  he  got  up  from  his  chair  and 
walked  rapidly  up  and  down  the  room,  then  forced  him- 
self to  sit  down  again  and  resume  his  original  calm. 

"I  am  going  to  trust  you,  Denzil,  with  something  which 
matters  far  more  than  my  life."  John  looked  Denzil 
straight  in  the  eyes.  "And  I  will  confide  in  you  because 
you  are  next  in  the  direct  line.  Listen  very  carefully, 
please,  it  concerns  your  honour  in  the  family  as  well  as 
mine.  It  would  be  too  infamous  to  let  Ardayre  go  to  the 
bastard,  Ferdinand,  the  snake-charmer's  son,  if,  as  is 
quite  possible,  I  shall  be  killed  in  the  coming  time." 

Denzil  felt  some  strange  excitement  permeating  him. 
What  did  these  words  portend?  Beads  of  perspiration 
appeared  on  John's  forehead,  and  his  voice  sunk  so  low 
that  his  cousin  bent  forward  to  be  certain  of  hearing  him. 

Then  John  spoke  in  broken  sentences,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  letting  another  share  the  thoughts  which  tor- 
tured him,  but  the  time  was  not  for  reticence.  Denzil 
must  understand  everything  so  that  he  would  consent  to  a 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  99 

certain  plan.  At  length,  all  that  was  in  John's  heart  had 
been  made  plain,  and  exhausted  with  the  effort  of  his 
innermost  being's  unburdenment,  he  sank  back  in  his 
chair,  deadly  pale.  The  quiet,  waiting  attitude  in  Denzil 
had  given  way  to  keenness,  and  more  than  once  as  he 
listened  to  the  moving  narration  he  had  emitted  words  of 
sympathy  and  concern,  but  when  the  actual  plan  which 
John  had  evolved  was  unfolded  to  him,  and  the  part  he 
was  to  play  explained,  he  rose  from  his  chair  and  stood 
leaning  on  the  high  mantelpiece,  an  expression  of  excite- 
ment and  illumination  on  his  strong,  good-looking  face. 

"Do  not  say  anything  for  a  little,"  John  said.  "Think 
over  everything  quietly.  I  am  not  asking  you  to  do 
anything  dishonourable — and  however  much  I  had  hated 
his  mother  I  would  not  ask  this  of  you  if  Ferdinand  were 
my  father's  son.  You  are  the  next  real  heir — Ferdinand 
could  not  be ;  my  father  had  never  met  the  woman  until 
a  month  before  he  married  her,  and  the  baby  arrived  five 
months  afterwards,  at  its  full  time.  There  was  no  ques- 
tion of  incubators  or  difficulties  and  special  precautions 
to  rear  him,  nor  was  there  any  suggestion  that  he  was  a 
seven  months'  child.  It  was  only  after  years  that  I 
found  out  when  my  father  first  saw  the  woman,  but  even 
before  this  proof  there  were  many  and  convincing  evi- 
dences that  Ferdinand  was  no  Ardayre." 

"One  has  only  to  look  at  the  beast!"  cried  Denzil. 
"If  the  mother  was  a  Bulgarian,  he's  a  mongrel  Turk, 
there  is  not  a  trace  of  English  blood  in  his  body !" 

"Then  surely  you  agree  with  me  that  it  would  be  an 
infamy  if  he  should  take  the  place  of  the  head  of  the 
family,  should  I  not  survive?" 

Denzil  clenched  his  hands. 

"There  is  no  moral  question  attached,  remember,"  John 


ioo  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

went  on  anxiously  before  he  could  reply.  "There  is  only 
the  question  of  the  law,  which  has  been  tricked  and  de- 
famed by  my  father,  for  the  meanest  ends  of  revenge 
towards  me — and  now  we — you  and  I — have  the  right  to 
save  the  family  and  its  honour  and  circumvent  the  perfidy 
and  weakness  of  that  one  man.  Oh! — can't  you  under- 
stand what  this  means  to  me,  since  for  this  trust  of  Ar- 
dayre  that  I  feel  I  must  faithfully  carry  on,  I  am  willing 

to Oh! — my  God,  I  can't  say  it.  Denzil,  answer 

me — tell  me  that  you  look  at  it  in  the  same  way  as  I  do ! 
You  are  of  the  family.  It  is  your  blood  which  Ferdi- 
nand would  depose — the  disgrace  would  be  yours  then, 
since  if  Ferdinand  reigned  I  would  have  gone." 

The  two  men  were  standing  opposite  one  another,  and 
both  their  faces  were  pale  and  stern,  but  Denzil's  blue 
eyes  were  blazing  with  some  wonderful  new  emotion,  as 
they  looked  at  John. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  and  held  out  his  hand.  "I  ap- 
preciate the  tremendous  faith  you  have  placed  in  me, 
and  on  my  word  of  honour  as  an  Ardayre,  I  will  not 
abuse  it,  nor  take  advantage  of  it  afterwards.  My  regi- 
ment will  go  out  at  once,  I  suppose,  the  chances  are  as 
likely  that  I  shall  be  killed  as  you " 

They  shook  hands  silently. 

"We  must  lose  no  time." 

Then  John  poured  out  two  glasses  of  brandy,  and  the 
toast  they  drank  was  unspoken.  But  suddenly  Denzil 
remembered  as  a  strange  coincidence  that  he  was  drinking 
it  for  the  third  time. 

Amaryllis  arrived  from  Ardayre  the  next  afternoon, 
after  John's  medical  board  had  been  squared  into  pro- 
nouncing him  fit  for  active  service — and  he  met  his  wife 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  101 

at  the  station  and  was  particularly  solicitous  of  her  well- 
being.  He  seemed  to  be  unusually  glad  to  see  her,  and 
put  his  arm  round  her  in  the  motor  driving  to  Brook 
Street.  What  would  she  like  to  do?  They  could  not, 
of  course,  go  to  the  theatre,  but  if  she  would  rather  they 
could  go  out  to  a  restaurant  to  dine — there  were  going 
to  be  all  kinds  of  difficulties  about  food.  Amaryllis,  who 
responded  immediately  to  the  smallest  advance  on  his 
part,  glowed  now  with  fond  sweetness.  She  had  been  so 
miserable  without  him;  so  crushed  and  upset  by  the 
thought  of  war,  and  his  possible  participation  in  it.  All 
the  long  night,  alone  at  Ardayre,  she  had  tried  to  realise 
what  it  all  would  mean.  It  was  too  stupendous,  she 
could  not  grasp  it  as  yet,  it  was  just  a  blank  horror.  And 
now  to  be  in  the  motor  and  close  to  him,  and  everything 
ordinary  and  as  usual  seemed  to  drive  the  hideous  fact 
further  and  further  away.  She  would  not  face  it  for 
to-night,  she  would  try  to  be  happy  and  banish  the  re- 
membrance. No  one  knew  what  was  happening,  nor  if 
the  Expeditionary  Force  had  or  had  not  crossed  to 
France.  John  asked  her  again  what  she  would  like  to  do. 

She  did  not  want  to  go  out  at  all,  she  told  him;  if 
the  kitchenmaid  and  Murcheson  could  find  them  some- 
thing to  eat  she  would  much  rather  dine  alone  with  him, 
like  a  regular  old  Darby  and  Joan  pair — and  afterwards 
she  would  play  nice  things  to  him,  and  John  agreed. 

When  she  came  down  ready  for  dinner,  she  was  ra- 
diant; she  had  put  on  a  new  and  ravishing  tea-gown  and 
her  grey  eyes  were  shining  with  a  winsome  challenge, 
and  her  beautiful  skin  was  brilliant  with  health  and 
freshness.  A  man  could  not  have  desired  a  more 
delectable  creature  to  call  his  own. 

John  thought  so  and  at  dinner  expanded  and  told  her 


102  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

so.  He  was  not  a  practised  lover;  women  had  played 
a  very  small  part  in  his  life — always  too  filled  with  work 
and  the  one  dominating  idea  to  make  room  for  them. 
He  had  none  of  the  tender  graciousness  ready  at  his 
command  which  Denzil  would  very  well  have  known  how 
to  show.  But  he  loved  Amaryllis,  and  this  was  the  first 
time  he  had  permitted  the  expression  of  his  emotion  to 
appear. 

She  became  ever  more  fascinating,  and  at  length  un- 
conscious passion  grew  in  her  glance.  John  said  some 
rather  clumsy  but  loving  things,  and  when  they  went  back 
to  the  library  he  slipped  his  arm  round  her,  and  drew  her 
to  his  side. 

"I  love  to  be  near  you,  John,"  she  whispered;  "I  like 
your  being  so  tall  and  so  distinguished-looking.  I  like 
your  clothes — they  are  so  well  made — "  and  then  she 
wrinkled  her  pretty  nose — "and  I  adore  the  smell  of  the 
stuff  you  put  on  your  hair!  Oh!  I  don't  know — I  just 
want  to  be  in  your  arms!" 

John  kissed  her.  "I  must  give  you  a  bottle  of  that 
lotion — it  is  supposed  to  do  wonders  for  the  hair.  It 
was  originally  made  by  an  old  housekeeper  of  my 
mother's  family  in  the  still  room,  and  I  have  always 
kept  the  receipt — there  are  cloves  in  it  and  some  other 
aromatic  herbs." 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  smell,  like  a  clove  carnation — it  is 
divine.  I  wonder  why  scents  have  such  an  effect  upon 
one — don't  you?  Perhaps  I  am  a  very  sensuous  creature 
— they  can  make  me  feel  wicked  or  good — some  scents 
make  me  deliciously  intoxicated — that  one  of  yours  does 
— when  I  get  near  you — I  want  you  to  hold  me  and  kiss 
me — John." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  103 

Every  fibre  of  John  Ardayre's  being  quivered  with 
pain.  The  cruel,  ironical  bitterness  of  things. 

"I've  never  smelt  this  same  scent  on  any  one  else,"  she 
went  on,  rubbing  her  soft  cheek  up  and  down  against 
his  shoulder  in  the  most  alluring  way.  "I  should  know 
it  anywhere  for  it  means  just  my  dear — John !" 

He  turned  away  on  the  pretence  of  getting  a  cigarette ; 
he  knew  that  his  eyes  had  filled  with  tears. 

Then  Murcheson  came  into  the  room  with  the  coffee, 
and  this  made  a  break — and  he  immediately  asked  her 
to  play  to  him,  and  settled  himself  in  one  of  the  big 
chairs.  He  was  too  much  on  the  rack  to  continue  any 
more  love-making  then;  "what  might  have  been"  caused 
too  poignant  anguish. 

He  watched  her  delicate  profile  outlined  against  the 
curtain  of  green  silk.  It  was  so  pure  and  young — and 
her  long  throat  was  white  as  milk.  If  this  time  next 
year  she  should  have  a  child — a  son — and  he,  not  killed, 
but  sitting  there  perhaps  watching  her  holding  it.  How 
would  he  feel  then?  Would  the  certainty  of  having 
an  Ardayre  carry  on  heal  the  wild  rebellion  in  his 
soul? 

"Ah,  God !"  he  prayed,  "take  away  all  feeling — reward 
this  sacrifice — let  the  family  go  on." 

"You  don't  think  you  will  have  really  to  go  to  the 
war,  do  you,  John?"  Amaryllis  asked  after  she  left  the 
piano.  "It  will  be  all  over,  won't  it,  before  the  New 
Year,  and  in  any  case  the  Yeomanry  are  only  for  home 
defence,  aren't  they  ?"  and  she  took  a  low  seat  and  rested 
her  head  against  his  arm. 

John  stroked  her  hair. 

"I  am  afraid  it  will  not  be  over   for  a  long  time, 


104  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Amaryllis.  Yes,  I  think  we  shall  go  out  and  pretty  soon.. 
You  would  not  wish  to  stop  me,  child?" 

Amaryllis  looked  straight  in  front  of  her. 

"What  is  this  thing  in  us,  John,  which  makes  us  feel 
that — yes,  we  would  give  our  nearest  and  dearest,  even 
if  they  must  be  killed?  When  the  big  thing  comes  even 
into  the  lives  which  have  been  perhaps  all  frivolous  like 
mine — it  seems  to  make  a  great  light.  There  is  an  ex- 
altation, and  a  pity,  and  a  glory,  and  a  grief,  but  no 
holding  back.  Is  that  patriotism,  John?" 

"That  is  one  name  for  it,  darling." 

"But  it  is  really  beyond  that  in  this  war,  because  we 
are  not  going  to  fight  for  England,  but  for  right.  I 
think  that  feeling  that  we  must  give  is  some  oblation  of 
the  soul  which  has  freed  itself  from  the  chains  of  the 
body  at  last.  For  so  many  years  we  have  all  been 
asleep." 

"This  is  a  rude  awakening." 

They  were  silent  for  a  little  while,  each  busy  with 
unusual  thoughts. 

There  was  a  sense  of  nearness  between  them — of 
understanding,  new  and  dangerously  sweet. 

Amaryllis  felt  it  deliciously,  sensuously,  and  took  joy 
in  that  she  was  touching  him. 

John  thrust  it  away. 

"I  must  get  through  to-night,"  he  thought,  "but  I  can- 
not if  this  hideous  pain  of  knowledge  of  what  I  must 
renounce  conquers  me — I  must  be  strong." 

He  went  on  stroking  her  hair;  it  made  her  thrill  and 
she  turned  and  bit  one  of  his  fingers  playfully  with  a 
wicked  little  laugh. 

"I  wish  I  knew  what  I  am  feeling,  John,"  she  whis- 
pered, and  her  eyes  were  aflame,  "I  wish  I  knew " 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  105 

"I  must  teach  you !"  and  with  sudden  fierceness  he  bent 
down  and  kissed  her  lips. 

Then  he  told  her  to  go  to  bed. 

"You  must  be  tired,  Amaryllis,  after  your  journey. 
Go  like  a  good  child." 

She  pouted.  She  was  all  vibrating  with  some  totally 
new  and  overmastering  emotion.  She  wanted  to  stay 
and  be  made  love  to.  She  wanted — she  knew  not  what, 
only  everything  in  her  was  thrilling  with  passionate 
warmth. 

"Must  I?     It  is  only  ten." 

"I  have  a  frightful  lot  of  business  things  to  write  to- 
night, Amaryllis.  Go  now  and  sleep,  and  I  will  come 
and  wake  you  about  twelve!"  He  looked  lover-like. 
She  sighed. 

"Ah !  if  you  would  only  come  now !" 

He  kissed  her  almost  roughly  again  and  led  her  to 
the  door.  And  he  stood  watching  her  with  burning  eyes 
as  she  went  up  the  stairs. 

Then  he  came  back  and  rang  the  bell. 

"I  shall  be  very  late,  Murcheson — do  not  sit  up,  I  will 
turn  out  the  lights.  Good-night." 

"Very  good,  Sir  John." 

And  the  valet  left  the  room. 

But  John  Ardayre  did  not  write  any  business  letters ; 
he  sank  back  into  his  great  leather  chair — his  lips  were 
trembling,  and  presently  sobs  shook  him,  and  he  leaned 
forward  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

Just  before  twelve  had  struck,  he  went  out  into  the 
hall,  and  turned  off  the  light  at  the  main.  The  whole 
house  would  now  be  in  absolute  darkness  but  for  an 
electric  torch  he  carried.  He  listened — there  was  not  a 
sound. 


io6  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Then  he  crept  quietly  up  to  his  dressing  room  and 
returned  with  a  bottle  of  the  clove-scented  hair  lotion. 

"What  a  mercy  she  spoke  of  it,"  his  thoughts  ran. 
"How  sensitive  women  are — I  should  never  have  remem- 
bered such  a  thing." 

Yes — now -there  was  a  sound. 

Midnight  had  struck — and  Amaryllis,  sleeping  peace- 
fully, had  been  dreaming  of  John. 

"Oh!  dearest,"  she  whispered  drowsily,  as  but  half 
awakened,  she  felt  herself  being  drawn  into  a  pair  of 
strong  arms — "Oh! — you  know  I  love  that  scent  of 
cloves — Oh! — I  love  you,  John!" 


CHAPTER  IX 

When  Amaryllis  awoke  in  the  morning  her  head  rested 
on  John's  breast,  and  his  arm  encircled  her.  She  raised 
herself  on  her  elbow  and  looked  at  him.  He  was  still 
asleep — and  his  face  was  infinitely  sad.  She  bent  over 
and  kissed  him  with  shy  tenderness,  but  he  did  not  move, 
he  only  sighed  heavily  as  he  lay  there. 

Why  should  he  look  so  sad,  when  they  were  so  happy  ? 

She  thought  of  loving  things  he  had  said  to  her  at 
dinner — and  then  the  afterwards ! — and  she  thrilled  with 
emotion.  Life  seemed  a  glorious  thing  and —  But  John 
was  sad,  of  course,  because  he  must  go  away.  The  recol- 
lection of  this  fact  came  upon  her  suddenly  like  a  blast 
of  cold  air.  They  must  part.  War  hung  there  with  its 
hideous  shadow,  and  John  must  be  conscious  of  it  even 
in  his  dreams,  that  was  why  he  sighed. 

The  irony  of  things — now — when — Oh !  how  cruel  that 
he  must  go. 

Then  John  awoke  with  a  shudder,  and  saw  her  there 
leaning  over  him  with  a  new  soft  love  light  in  her  eyes, 
and  he  realised  that  the  anguish  of  his  calvary  had  only 
just  begun. 

She  was  perfectly  exquisite  at  breakfast,  a  fresh  and 
tender  graciousness  radiated  in  her  every  glance ;  she  was 
subtle  and  captivating,  teasing  him  that  he  had  been  so 
silent  in  the  night.  "Why  wouldn't  you  talk  to  me, 
John?  But  it  was  all  divine,  I  did  not  mind."  Then  she 
became  full  of  winsome  ways  and  caresses,  which  she  had 
107 


io8  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

hitherto  been  too  timid  to  express ;  and  every  fond  word 
she  spoke  stabbed  John's  heart. 

Could  she  not  come  and  stay  somewhere  near  so  as  to 
be  with  him  while  he  was  in  training?  It  was  unbearable 
to  remain  alone. 

But  he  told  her  that  this  would  be  impossible  and 
that  she  must  go  back  to  Ardayre. 

"I  will  get  leave,  if  there  is  a  chance,  dear  little  girl." 

"Oh !  John,  you  must  indeed." 

After  he  had  gone  out  to  the  War  Office,  she  sang 
as  she  undid  a  bundle  of  late  roses  he  had  sent  her  from 
Soloman's,  on  his  way. 

She  must  herself  put  them  in  water ;  no  servant  should 
have  this  pleasing  task.  Was  it  the  thought  of  the  im- 
minence of  separation  which  had  altered  John  into  so  dear 
a  lover?  She  went  over  his  words  there  in  the  library. 
She  relived  the  joy  of  his  sudden  fierce  kiss,  when  he 
had  said  that  he  must  teach  her  as  to  what  her  emotions 
meant. 

Ah !  how  good  to  learn,  how  all  glorious  was  life  and 
love! 

"Sweetheart,"  the  word  rang  in  her  ears.  He  had 
never  called  her  that  before!  Indeed,  John  rarely  ever 
used  any  term  of  endearment,  and  never  got  beyond 
"Dear"  or  "Darling"  before.  But  now  it  was  an  ex- 
quisite remembrance!  Just  the  murmured  word  "Sweet- 
heart !"  whispered  softly  again  and  again  in  the  night. 

John  came  back  to  lunch,  but  two  of  the  de  la  Paule 
•family  dropped  in  also,  and  the  talk  was  all  of  war,  and 
the  difficulty  of  getting  money  at  the  banks,  and  how 
food  would  go  on,  and  what  the  whole  thing  would  mean. 

But  over  Amaryllis  some  spell  had  fallen — nothing 
seemed  a  reality,  she  could  not  attend  to  ordinary  things, 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  109 

she  felt  that  she  but  moved  and  spoke  as  one  still  in  a 
dream. 

The  world,  and  life,  and  death,  and  love,  were  all  a 
blended  mystery  which  was  but  beginning  to  unravel  for 
her  and  drew  her  nearer  to  John. 

The  days  went  on  apace. 

John  in  camp  thanked  God  for  the  strenuous  work  of 
his  training  that  it  kept  him  so  occupied  that  he  had 
barely  time  to  think  of  Amaryllis  or  the  tragedy  of 
things.  When  he  had  left  her  on  the  following  after- 
noon, the  seventh  of  August,  she  had  returned  to  Ar- 
dayre  alone  and  began  the  knitting  and  shirt-making  and 
amateurish  hospital  committees  which  all  well-meaning 
English  women  vaguely  grasped  at  before  the  stern  neces- 
sities brought  them  organised  work  to  do.  Amaryllis 
wrote  constantly  to  John — all  through  August — and 
many  of  the  letters  contained  loving  allusions  which  made 
him  wince  with  pain. 

Then  the  awful  news  came  of  Mons,  then  the  Marne 
• — and  the  Aisne — awful  and  glorious,  and  a  hush  and 
mourning  fell  over  the  land,  and  Amaryllis,  like  every 
one  else,  lost  interest  in  all  personal  things  for  a  time. 

A  young  cousin  had  been  killed  and  many  of  her 
season's  partners  and  friends,  and  now  she  knew  that  the 
North  Somerset  Yeomanry  would  shortly  go  out  and 
fight  as  they  had  volunteered  at  once.  She  was  very 
miserable.  But  when  September  grew,  in  spite  of  all 
this  general  sorrow,  a  new  horizon  presented  itself,  lit 
up  as  if  by  approaching  dawn,  for  a  hope  had  gradually 
developed — a  hope  which  would  mean  the  rejoicing  of 
John's  heart. 

And  the  day  when  first  this  possibility  of  future  ful- 
filment was  pronounced  a  certainty  was  one  of  almost  ex- 


no  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

alted  beatitude,  and  when  Doctor  Geddis  drove  away 
down  the  Northern  Avenue,  Amaryllis  seized  a  coat  from 
the  folded  pile  of  John's  in  the  hall,  and  walked  out  into 
the  park  hatless,  the  wind  blowing  the  curly  tendrils  of 
her  soft  brown  hair,  a  radiance  not  of  earth  in  her  eyes. 
The  late  September  sun  was  sinking  and  gilding  the  win- 
dows of  the  noble  house,  and  she  turned  and  looked  back 
at  it  when  she  was  far  across  the  lake. 

And  the  whole  of  her  spirit  rose  in  thankfulness  to 
God,  while  her  soul  sang  a  glad  magnificat. 

She,  too,  might  hand  on  this  great  and  splendid  in- 
heritance !  She,  too,  would  be  the  mother  of  Ardayres ! 

And  now  to  write  to  John! 

That  was  a  fresh  pleasure!  What  would  he  say? 
What  would  he  feel  ?  Dear  John !  His  letters  had  been 
calm  and  matter  of  fact,  but  that  was  his  way.  She  did 
not  mind  it  now.  He  loved  her,  and  what  did  words 
matter  with  this  glorious  knowledge  in  her  heart? 

To  have  a  baby !    Her  very  own — and  John's ! 

How  wonderful!     How  utterly  divine — ! 

Her  little  feet  hardly  touched  the  moss  beneath  them, 
she  wanted  to  skip  and  sing. 

Next  May!  Next  May!  A  Spring  flower— a  little 
life  to  care  for  when  war,  of  course,  would  have  ended 
and  all  the  world  again  could  be  happy  and  young ! 

And  then  she  returned  by  the  tiny  ancient  church. 
She  had  the  key  of  it,  a  golden  one  which  John  had  given 
her  on  their  first  coming  down.  It  hung  on  her  bracelet 
with  her  own  private  key. 

The  sun  was  pouring  through  the  western  window, 
carpeting  the  altar  steps  in  translucent  cloth  of  gold. 

Amaryllis  stole  up  the  short  aisle,  and  paused  when  she 
came  between  the  two  tall  canopied  tombs  of  recumbent 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  in 

sixteenth  century  knights,  which  made  so  dignified  a 
screen  for  the  little  side  aisles — and  then  she  moved  on 
and  knelt  in  the  shaft  of  the  sunlight  there  at  the  carved 
rails. 

And  no  one  ever  raised  to  God  a  purer  or  more  fervent 
prayer. 

She  stayed  until  the  sun  sunk  below  the  window,  and 
then  she  rose  and  went  back  to  the  house,  and  up  to  her 
cedar  room.  And  now  she  must  write  to  John! 

She  began — once — twice — but  tore  up  each  sheet. 
Her  news  was  a  supreme  happiness,  but  so  difficult  to 
transmit ! 

At  last  she  finished  three  sides  of  her  own  rather 
large  sized  note-paper,  but  as  she  read  over  what  she  had 
written,  she  was  not  quite  content;  it  did  not  express  all 
that  she  desired  John  to  know. 

But  how  could  a  mere  letter  convey  the  wordless 
gladness  in  her  heart? 

She  wanted  to  tell  him  how  she  would  worship  their 
baby,  and  how  she  would  pray  that  they  should  be  given 
a  son — and  how  she  would  remember  all  his  love  words 
spoken  that  last  time  they  were  together,  and  weave  the 
joy  of  them  round  the  little  form,  so  that  it  should  grow 
strong  and  beautiful  and  radiant,  and  come  to  earth 
welcomed  and  blessed! 

Something  of  all  this  finally  did  get  written,  and  she 
concluded  thus : 

"John,  is  it  not  all  wonderful  and  blissful  and  mys- 
terious, this  coming  proof  of  our  love?  And  when  I  lie 
awake  I  say  over  and  over  again  the  sweet  name  you  called 
me,  and  which  I  want  to  sign !  I  am  not  just  Amaryllis  any 
longer,  but  your  very  own 

"  'Sweetheart' !" 


H2  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

John  received  this  letter  by  the  afternoon  post  in  camp. 
He  sat  down  alone  in  his  tent  and  read  and  re-read  each 
line.  Then  he  stiffened  and  remained  icily  still. 

He  could  not  have  analysed  his  emotions.  They  were 
so  intermixed  with  thankfulness  and  pain — and  under- 
neath there  was  a  fierce,  primitive  jealousy  burning. 

"Sweetheart !"  he  said  aloud,  as  though  the  word  were 
anathema !  "And  must  I  call  her  that  'Sweetheart' ! 
Oh !  God,  it  is  too  hard !"  and  he  clenched  his  hands. 

By  the  same  post  came  a  letter  from  Denzil,  of  whose 
movements  he  had  asked  to  be  kept  informed,  saying  that 
the  noth  Hussars  were  going  out  at  once,  so  that  they 
would  probably  soon  meet  in  France. 

Then  John  wrote  to  Amaryllis.  The  very  force  of  his 
feelings  seemed  to  freeze  his  power  of  expression,  and 
when  he  had  finished  he  knew  that  it  was  but  a  cold, 
lifeless  thing  he  had  produced,  quite  inadequate  as  an 
answer  to  her  tender,  exalted  words. 

"My  poor  little  girl,"  he  sighed  as  he  read  it.  "I  know 
this  will  disappoint  her.  What  a  hideous,  sickening 
mockery  everything  is." 

He  forced  himself  to  add  a  postscript,  a  practice  very 
foreign  to  his  usual  methodical  rule.  "Neve-  forget  that 
I  love  you,  Amaryllis — Sweetheart!"  he  said. 

And  then  he  went  to  his  Colonel  and  asked  for  two 
days'  leave,  and  when  it  was  granted  for  the  following 
Saturday  and  Monday  he  wired  to  his  wife  asking  her 
to  meet  him  in  Brook  Street. 

"I  must  see  her — I  cannot  bear  it,"  he  cried  to  himself. 

And  late  at  night  he  wrote  to  Denzil — it  was  just  that 
he  should  do  this. 

"My  wife  is  going  to  have  a  baby — if  only  it  should 
be  a  son,  then  it  will  not  so  much  matter  if  both  of  us 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  113 

are  killed,  at  least  the  family  will  be  saved,  and  be  able 
to  carry  on." 

He  tried  to  make  the  letter  cordial.  Denzil  had  be- 
haved with  the  most  perfect  delicacy  throughout,  he  must 
admit,  and  although  they  had  met  once  and  exchanged 
several  letters,  not  the  faintest  allusion  to  the  subject  of 
their  talk  in  the  library  at  Brook  Street  had  ever  been 
made  by  him. 

Denzil  had  indeed  acted  and  written  as  though  such 
knowledge  between  them  did  not  exist.  He — Denzil — 
in  these  last  seven  weeks  had  been  extremely  occupied, 
and  while  his  forces  were  concentrated  upon  the  ex- 
hilarating preparations  for  war,  it  would  happen  in  rare 
moments  before  sleep  claimed  him  at  night  that  he  would 
let  his  thoughts  conjure  a  waking  dream,  infinitely,  mys- 
tically sweet.  And  every  pulse  would  thrill  with  ecstasy, 
and  then  his  will  would  banish  it,  and  he  would  think  of 
other  subjects. 

He  could  not  face  the  marvel  of  his  emotions  at  this 
period,  nor  dwell  upon  the  romantically  exciting  aspect 
of  some  things. 

He  was  up  in  London  upon  equipment  business  on  the 
very  Saturday  that  John  got  leave,  and  he  was  due  to 
dine  at  the  Carlton  with  Verisschenzko  who  had  that  day 
arrived  on  vital  matters  bent. 

As  they  came  into  the  hall,  a  man  stopped  to  talk 
to  the  Russian,  and  Denzil's  eyes  wandered  over  the  un- 
numerous  and  depressed  looking  company  collected  wait- 
ing for  their  parties  to  arrive.  War  had  even  in  those 
early  Autumn  days  set  its  grim  seal  upon  this  festive 
spot.  People  looked  rather  ashamed  of  being  seen  and 
no  one  smiled.  He  nodded  to  one  or  two  friends,  and 
then  his  glance  fell  upon  a  beautiful,  slim,  brown-haired 


ii4  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

girl,  sitting  quietly  waiting  in  an  armchair  by  the 
restaurant  steps. 

She  wore  a  plain  black  frock,  but  in  her  belt  one  huge 
crimson  clove  carnation  was  unostentatiously  tucked. 

"What  a  lovely  creature !"  his  thoughts  ran,  and  Veris- 
schenzko  turning  from  his  acquaintance  that  moment,  he 
said  to  him  as  they  started  to  advance: 

"Stepan,  if  you  want  to  see  something  typically  English 
and  perfectly  exquisite,  look  at  that  girl  in  the  armchair 
opposite  where  the  band  used  to  be.  I  wonder  who 
she  is?" 

"What  luck!"  cried  Verisschenzko.  "That  is  your 
cousin,  Amaryllis  Ardayre — come  along!" 

And  in  a  second  Denzil  found  himself  being  introduced 
to  her,  and  being  greeted  by  her  with  interested  cordiality, 
as  befitted  their  cousinly  relationship. 

But  Verisschenzko,  whose  eyes  missed  nothing,  re- 
marked that  under  his  sunburn,  Denzil  had  grown  sud- 
denly very  pale.  Amaryllis  was  enchanted  to  see  her 
friend,  the  Russian.  John  had  gone  to  the  telephone,  it 
appeared — and  yes,  they  were  dining  alone — and,  of 
course,  she  was  sure  John  would  love  to  amalgamate 
parties,  it  was  so  nice  of  Verisschenzko  to  think  of  it! 
There  was  John  now. 

The  blood  rushed  back  to  Denzil's  heart,  and  the  colour 
to  his  face — he  had  only  murmured  a  few  conventional 
words.  Mercifully  John  would  decide  the  matter — it 
was  not  his  doing  that  he  and  Amaryllis  had  met. 

John  caught  sight  of  the  three  as  he  came  along  the 
balcony  from  the  telephone,  so  that  he  had  time  to  take 
in  the  situation;  he  saw  that  the  meeting  was  quite 
imprevu,  and  he  had,  of  course,  no  choice  but  to  accept 
Verisschenzko's  suggestion  with  a  show  of  grace.  At 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  115 

that  very  moment,  before  they  could  enter  the  restaurant, 
and  re-arrange  their  tables,  Harietta  Boleski  and  her  hus- 
band swept  upon  them — they  were  staying  in  the  hotel. 
Harietta  was  enraptured. 

What  a  delightful  surprise  meeting  them!  Were  they 
all  just  together,  would  they  not  dine  with  her? 

She  purred  to  John,  while  her  eyes  took  in  with  satis- 
faction Denzil's  extraordinary  good  looks — and  there  was 
Stepan,  too !  Nothing  could  be  more  agreeable  than  to 
scintillate  for  them  both. 

John  hailed  their  advent  with  relief :  it  would  relax  the 
intolerable  strain  which  both  he  and  Denzil  would  be 
bound  to  have  to  experience.  So  looking  at  the  rest  of 
the  party,  he  indicated  that  he  thought  they  would  accept. 
It  suited  Verisschenzko  also  for  his  own  reasons.  And 
any  suggestion  to  enlarge  the  intimate  number  of  four 
would  have  been  received  by  Denzil  with  graciousness. 

He  had  not  imagined  that  he  would  feel  such  profound 
emotion  on  seeing  Amaryllis,  the  intensity  of  it  caused 
him  displeasure.  It  was  altogether  such  a  remarkable 
situation.  He  knew  that  it  would  have  been  of  thrilling 
interest  to  him  had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of  John. 
His  knowledge  of  what  John  must  be  suffering,  and  the 
knowledge  that  John  was  aware  of  what  he  also  must  be 
feeling,  turned  the  whole  circumstance  into  discomfort. 

As  soon  as  he  recalled  himself  to  Madame  Boleski  they 
all  went  into  the  restaurant  to  the  Boleski  table,  just  in- 
side the  door,  by  the  window  on  the  right.  Harietta 
put  John  on  one  side  of  her  and  Denzil  at  the  other, 
and  beyond  were  Verisschenzko  and  her  husband,  with 
Amaryllis  between,  who  thus  sat  nearly  opposite  Denzil, 
with  her  back  to  the  room. 

Harietta,  when  she  desired  to  be,  was  always  an  in- 


Il6  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

spiriting  hostess,  making  things  go.  She  intended  to  do 
her  best  to-night.  The  turn  affairs  had  taken,  England 
being  at  war,  was  quite  too  tiresome.  It  had  spoilt  all 
her  country  house  visits  and  nullified  much  of  the  pleas- 
ure and  profit  she  was  intending  to  reap  from  her  now 
secured  position  in  this  promised  land. 

Stanislass,  too,  had  been  difficult,  he  had  threatened 
to  go  back  to  Poland  immediately,  which  he  explained 
was  his  obvious  duty  to  do — but  she  had  fortunately 
been  able  to  crush  that  idea  completely  with  tears  and 
scenes.  Then  he  suggested  Paris,  but  information  from 
Hans  gave  her  occasion  to  think  this  might  not  be  a 
comfortable  or  indeed  quite  a  safe  spot,  and  in  all  cases 
if  the  Frenchmen  were  fighting  for  dear  life  they  would 
not  have  leisure  to  entertain  her,  therefore,  dull  and 
gloomy  as  England  had  become,  she  preferred  to  remain. 

Hans,  too,  had  given  her  orders.  For  the  present 
London  must  be  her  home,  and  the  lease  of  the  Mount 
Lennard  house  in  Grosvenor  Square  having  expired,  they 
had  moved  to  the  Carlton  Hotel. 

The  misery  of  war,  the  holocaust  of  all  that  was  no- 
blest, left  her  absolutely  cold.  It  was  certainly  a  pity 
that  those  darling  young  guardsmen  she  had  danced  with 
should  have  had  to  be  killed,  but  there  was  never  any 
use  in  crying  over  spilt  milk — better  look  out  for  new 
ones  coming  on.  She  was  quite  indifferent  as  to  which 
country  won.  It  was  still  a  great  bother  collecting  in- 
formation for  her  former  husband,  but  he  threatened  ter- 
rible reprisals  if  she  refused  to  go  on,  and  as  in  her 
secret  heart  she  thought  that  there  was  no  doubt  as  to 
who  would  be  victor,  she  felt  it  might  be  wiser  to  remain 
on  good  terms  with  the  power  she  believed  would  win ! 

Ferdinand  Ardayre  had  been  very  helpful  all  the  sum- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  117 

mer — he  had  moved  from  the  Constantinople  branch  of 
his  business  to  one  in  Holland  and  had  just  returned  to 
England  now;  he  was,  in  fact,  coming  to  see  her  later 
on  when  she  should  have  packed  Stanislass  safely  off 
to  the  St.  James'  Club. 

Harietta  had  no  imagination  to  be  inflamed  by  terrible 
descriptions  of  things.  She  saw  no  actual  horrors,  there- 
fore war  to  her  was  only  a  nuisance — nothing  ghastly 
or  to  be  feared.  But  it  was  a  disgusting  nuisance  and 
caused  her  fatigue.  She  had  continually  to  remember  to 
simulate  proper  sympathy,  and  concern  and  to  subdue 
her  vivacity,  and  show  enthusiasm  for  any  agreeable  war 
work  which  could  divert  her  dull  days.  If  she  had  not 
been  more  than  doubtful  of  her  reception  in  America, 
even  as  a  Polish  magnate's  wife,  she  would  have  gone 
over  there  to  escape  as  far  as  possible  from  the  whole 
situation,  and  she  had  been  bored  to  death  now  for 
several  days.  People  were  too  occupied  and  too  grieved 
to  go  out  of  their  way  now  to  make  much  of  her,  and 
she  had  been  left  alone  to  brood.  Thus  the  advent  of 
Verisschenzko,  who  thrilled  her  always,  and  a  possible 
new  admirer  in  Denzil,  seemed  a  heaven-sent  occurrence. 
Amaryllis  and  John  were  undesired  but  unavoidable 
appendages  who  had  to  be  swallowed. 

Denzil's  type  particularly  attracted  her.  There  was  an 
insouciance  about  him,  a  debonnair  sans  gene  which  in- 
creased the  charm  of  his  good  looks;  he  had  everything 
of  attraction  about  him  which  John  Ardayre  lacked. 

Amaryllis,  against  her  will,  before  the  end  of  the 
dinner,  was  conscious  of  the  fact  also,  though  Denzil 
studiously  avoided  any  conversation  with  her  beyond 
what  the  exigencies  of  politeness  required.  He  devoted 
himself  entirely  to  Harietta,  to  her  delight,  and  Veris- 


Il8  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

schenzko  and  Amaryllis  talked  while  John  was  left  to 
Stanislass.  But  the  very  fact  of  Denzil's  likeness  to 
John  made  Amaryllis  look  at  him,  and  she  resented  his 
attraction  and  the  interest  he  aroused  in  her. 

His  voice  was  perhaps  even  deeper  than  John's,  and 
how  extraordinarily  well  his  bronze  hair  was  planted  on 
his  forehead ;  and  how  perfectly  groomed  and  brushed 
and  soldierly  he  looked! 

He  seemingly  had  taken  the  measure  of  Madame 
Boleski,  too,  and  was  apparently  enjoying  with  a  culti- 
vated subtlety  the  drawing  of  her  out.  He  was  no  novice 
it  seemed,  and  there  was  a  whimsical  light  in  his  eyes 
and  once  or  twice  they  had  inadvertently  met  hers  with 
understanding  when  Verisschenzko  had  made  some  espe- 
cially cryptic  remark.  She  knew  that  she  would  very 
much  have  liked  to  talk  to  him. 

Verisschenzko  was  observing  Amaryllis  carefully. 
There  was  a  new  expression  in  her  eyes  which  puzzled 
him.  Her  features  seemed  to  be  drawn  with  finer  lines 
and  pale  violet  shadows  lay  beneath  her  grey  eyes.  Was 
it  the  gloom  of  the  war  which  oppressed  her?  It  could 
not  be  altogether  that,  because  her  regard  was  serene  and 
even  happy. 

"Did  I  not  know  that  nothing  could  be  more  unlikely, 
I  should  say  she  was  going  to  have  a  child.  What  is  the 
mystery?"  He  found  himself  very  much  interested. 
Especially  he  was  anxious  to  watch  what  impression 
Denzil  made  upon  her.  He  saw,  as  the  dinner  went  on, 
that  Amaryllis  was  aware  that  he  was  an  attractive 
creature. 

"There  is  the  beginning  of  a  chapter  of  necessary  and 
expedient — romance — here,"  he  decided.  "If  only  Den- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  119 

zil  is  not  killed."  But  what  did  his  growing  so  pale  on 
learning  that  she  was  his  cousin  mean  .  .  .  ?  that  was 
not  a  natural  circumstance — some  deep  undercurrents 
were  stirred.  And  in  what  way  was  all  this  going  to 
affect  the  lady  of  his  soul? 

They  could  not  have  any  intimate  conversation  at  din- 
ner; they  spoke  of  ordinary  things  and  the  war  and  the 
horror  of  it.  Russia  was  moving  forward,  but  Veris- 
schenzko  did  not  appear  to  be  very  optimistic  in  spite 
of  this.  There  were  things  in  his  country,  he  told 
Amaryllis,  which  might  handicap  the  fighting. 

Stanislass  Boleski  looked  extremely  depressed.  He 
had  a  hang-dog,  strained  mien  and  Verisschenzko's  con- 
temptuously friendly  attitude  towards  him  wounded  him 
deeply.  Once  he  had  shone  as  a  leader  and  chief  in 
Stepan's  life,  and  now  after  the  stormy  scene  in  the 
smoking-room  at  Ardayre,  that  he  could  greet  him  cas- 
ually and  not  turn  from  him  in  anger,  showed,  alas !  to 
where  he  had  sunk  in  Verisschenzko's  estimation — a 
thing  of  nought — not  even  worth  his  disapproval.  The 
dinner  to  him  was  a  painful  trial. 

John  also  was  far  from  content.  He  had  been  longing 
to  see  Amaryllis,  and  yet  the  sight  of  her  and  her  fond 
and  insinuating  words  and  caresses  had  caused  him  ex- 
quisite suffering.  His  emotions  were  so  varied  and  com- 
plex. His  prayer  had  been  answered,  but  apart  from 
his  natural  loathing  for  all  subterfuge,  every  new  tender- 
ness towards  himself  which  Amaryllis  displayed  aroused 
some  indefinable  jealousy.  She  had  been  so  glad  to  see 
him  and  he  had  been  conscious  himself  that  he  had  been 
even  unusually  stolid  and  self-contained  towards  her. 
He  knew  that  she  grew  disappointed  and  that  probably 


120  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

the  exalted  sentiment  which  her  letter  had  indicated  that 
she  was  feeling  had  been  chilled  before  she  could  put  it 
into  words. 

All  this  distressed  him,  and  yet  he  could  not  break 
through  the  reserve  of  his  nature. 

And  now  to  crown  unfortunate  things,  there  was 
Denzil  brought  by  fate  and  no  one's  manoeuvring  into 
Amaryllis'  company!  Of  all  things  he  had  hoped  that 
they  need  not  meet  before  he  and  his  cousin  should  go 
to  the  Front.  And  it  was  all  brought  about  by  his  own 
action  in  insisting  that  they  had  better  dine  at  a  res- 
taurant, as  the  kitchenmaid,  who  always  remained  at 
Brook  Street,  had  gone  to  see  a  wounded  brother. 

Amaryllis  had  sighed  a  little  as  she  had  consented,  with 
the  faint  protest  that  they  could  have  eaten  something 
cold. 

But  on  their  drive  to  the  Carlton  she  had  become 
fondly  affectionate  again,  nestling  close  to  him,  and  then 
she  had  pulled  out  the  carnation  from  her  belt  and  held 
it  for  him  to  smell. 

"I  picked  it  in  the  greenhouse  this  morning,  the  last 
of  them ;  I  have  had  them  all  around  me  while  there  were 
any,  because  they  remind  me  of  you,  dearest — and  of 
everything  divine." 

John  felt  that  he  should  always  now  hate  that  clove 
stuff  for  the  hair  and  could  no  longer  bear  to  use  it. 

He  was  perfectly  aware  that  Denzil  on  his  hostess' 
other  haod  was  looking  everything  that  a  woman  could 
desire,  and  that  his  easy  casualness  of  manner  would 
be  likely  to  charm.  He  saw  that  Amaryllis,  too,  ob- 
served him  with  unconscious  interest,  and  a  feeling  akin 
to  despair  filled  his  heart. 

Life  for  him  had  always  been  difficult,  and  he  was 


THE  PRICE-  OF  THINGS  121 

accustomed  to  blows,  but  this  one  was  particularly  hard 
to  bear,  because  he  really  loved  Amaryllis  and  desired 
happiness  with  her  which  he  knew  could  never  really  be 
attained. 

Only  Harietta  of  the  whole  party  was  quite  content. 
She  intended  to  annex  Stepan  when  they  should  be  drink- 
ing coffee  in  the  hall.  She  looked  upon  Denzil's  con- 
quest now  as  almost  an  accomplished  fact,  and  so  felt 
that  she  might  let  him  talk  to  Amaryllis,  since  the  Rus- 
sian was  her  real  object.  His  ugly  rugged  face  and  odd 
Calmuck  eyes  always  attracted  her. 

"Why  aren't  you  staying  in  the  hotel,  darling  Brute?" 
she  whispered  to  him  as  they  left  the  restaurant.  "If 
you  had  been " 

"I  am,"  said  Verisschenzko,  and  leaving  her  for  a  mo- 
ment he  went  and  telephoned  to  his  not  unintelligent 
Russian  servant  at  the  Ritz  to  arrange  about  the 
transference  of  his  rooms. 

"She  requires  the  most  careful  watching — I  must  wast? 
no  time." 

And  then  he  returned  to  the  party  in  the  hall. 


CHAPTER  X 

Denzil  Ardayre  took  up  his  letters  which  had  been 
forwarded  to  him  from  the,  depot  where  he  was  stationed. 
He  and  Verisschenzko  were  passing  through  the  hall  of 
his  mother's  house,  for  a  talk  and  a  smoke  in  his  sitting- 
room,  after  leaving  the  Carlton. 

The  house  was  in  St.  James'  Place,  a  small,  old  build- 
ing, the  ground  floor  of  which  was  given  over  to  Denzil 
whenever  he  was  in  London.  His  mother  was  absent  at 
Bath,  where  she  spent  a  long  autumn  cure. 

John's  letter  lay  on  the  top,  and  Verisschenzko  caught 
the  look  of  interest  which  came  into  Denzil's  face. 

"Don't  mind  me,  my  dear  chap,"  he  remarked,  "read 
your  letters."  And  they  went  on  into  the  sitting-room. 

"I  want  just  to  look  at  this  one — it  is  from  John  Ar- 
dayre whom  we  met  to-night,"  and  Denzil  opened  it  cas- 
ually— "I  wonder  what  he  is  writing  to  me  about,  he  did 
not  say  anything  at  dinner." 

He  read  the  short  communication  and  exclaimed : 
"Good  God!"  and  then  checked  himself.  He  was  ob- 
viously stirred,  and  Verisschenzko  watched  him  narrowly. 
Anything  to  do  with  John  must  concern  Amaryllis,  and 
therefore  was  of  profound  interest  to  himself. 

"No  bad  news,  I  hope?"  he  said. 

Denzil  was  gazing  into  the  fire,  and  there  was  a  look 
of  wonderment  and  even  rapture  upon  his  face. 

"Oh!  No — rather  splendid — "  He  felt  quite  the 
strangest  emotion  he  had  ever  experienced  in  his  life 
122 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  123 

His  usual  serene  self-confidence  and  easy  flow  of  words 
deserted  him,  and  Verisschenzko,  watching  him,  began  to 
link  certain  things  in  his  mind. 

"Tell  me,  what  did  you  think  of  your  cousin,  Lady 
Ardayre?"  he  asked  casually,  as  though  the  subject  was 
irrelevant. 

"Amaryllis  ?"  and  Denzil  almost  started  from  a  reverie. 
"Oh,  yes,  of  course,  she  is  a  lovely  creature,  is  not  she, 
Stepan  ?" 

Verisschenzko  narrowed  his  eyes. 

"I  have  told  you  that  I  adore  her — but  with  the  spirit 
— if  it  were  not  so,  she  would  appeal  very  strongly  to  the 
flesh— Yes?— Did  you  not  feel  it?" 

"I  did." 

"Well?" 

"Well " 

"She  is  longing  to  understand  life,  she  is  groping ;  why 
do  you  not  set  about  her  education,  Denzil?" 

"That  is  the  husband's  business." 

"Not  in  this  case.  I  consider  it  is  yours ;  you  are  the 
right  mate  for  her.  John  Ardayre  is  a  good  fellow,  but 
he  stands  for  nothing  in  the  affair.  Why  did  you  waste 
your  time  upon  Harietta,  when  time  is  so  short?" 

"I  was  given  no  choice." 

"But  afterwards,  in  the  hall?" 

It  was  quite  evident  to  Verisschenzko  that  the  mention 
of  Amaryllis  was  causing  his  friend  some  unexplainable 
emotion. 

"You  did  not  even  exert  yourself,  then.  Why, 
Denzil?" 

Denzil  lit  a  cigarette. 

"I  thought  her  awfully  attractive — it  is  the  first  time 
I  have  ever  seen  her — as  you  know." 


I24  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"And  that  was  a  reason  for  remaining  silent  and  as 
stiff  as  a  poker  in  manner!  You  English  are  a  strange 
race !" 

Denzil  smiled — if  Stepan  only  knew  everything,  what 
would  he  say! 

"You  were  made  for  each  other.  If  I  were  you,  I 
would  not  lose  a  second's  time !" 

"My  dear  old  boy,  you  seem  quite  to  forget  that  the 
girl  has  a  husband  of  her  own !" 

"Not  at  all,  it  is  for  that  reason — just  because  of  that 
husband.  I  shall  say  no  more,  you  are  quite  intelligent 
enough  to  understand." 

"You  think  it  is  all  right  then  for  a  woman  to  have  a 
lover?"  Denzil  smiled  as  he  curled  rings  of  smoke. 
"It  is  curious  how  the  most  honourable  among  us  has 
not  much  conscience  concerning  such  things." 

Verisschenzko  knocked  off  his  cigarette  ash  and  spoke 
contemplatively : 

"The  world  would  be  an  insupportable  place  for 
women,  if  he  had!  But  whatever  the  moral  aspect  of 
the  matter  is  in  general,  circumstances  arise  which  alter 
the  point,  and  that  is  where  the  absurd  ticketing  system 
hampers  suitable  action.  A  thing  is  ticketed  'dishon- 
ourable.' Pah !  it  is  sometimes,  and  it  is  not  at  others — 
there  is  no  hard  and  fast  rule." 

Denzil  stretched  himself — he  was  always  interested  in 
Verisschenzko's  reasonings  and  prepared  to  listen  with 
enjoyment : 

"The  general  idea  is  that  a  man  should  not  make  love 
to  another  man's  wife.  Man  professes  this  as  a  creed, 
and  the  law  enforces  it  and  punishes  him  if  he  is  found 
out  doing  so.  And  if  he  acted  up  to  this  creed  as  he 
does  about  stealing  goods  and  behaving  like  a  gentleman 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  125 

over  business  matters,  all  might  be  well,  but  unfor- 
tunately that  seldom  occurs,  because  there  is  that  strong 
instinct  which  is  the  base  of  all  things  working  in  him, 
and  which  does  not  work  in  regard  to  any  other  point 
of  honour — i.  e.,  the  unconscious  desire  to  re-create  his 
species,  so  that  this  one  particular  branch  of  moral  re- 
sponsibility cannot  be  measured,  judged,  or  criticised 
from  the  same  standpoint  as  any  other.  No  laws  can 
alter  human  nature,  or  really  control  a  man's  actions 
when  a  natural  force  is  prompting  him  unless  stern  self- 
analysis  discovers  the  truth  to  the  man,  and  so  permits 
his  spirit  to  regain  dominion.  The  best  chance  would  be 
to  resist  the  first  feeling  of  attraction  which  a  woman 
belonging  to  another  man  aroused  before  it  had  actually 
obtained  a  hold  upon  his  senses — but  the  percentage  of 
men  who  do  this  must  be  very  small.  Some  resist — or 
try  to  resist  the  actual  possession  of  the  woman  from 
moral  motives,  but  many  more  from  motives  of  expedi- 
ency and  fear  of  consequences.  Then  to  salve  conscience 
the  mass  of  men  ride  a  high  moral  stalking  horse,  and 
write  and  speak  condemnation  of  every  back-sliding, 
while  their  own  behaviour  coincides  with  the  behaviour 
they  are  criticising.  The  hypocrisy  of  the  thing  sickens 
me;  no  one  ever  looks  any  question  straight  in  the  face, 
denuded  of  its  man-made  sophistries.  And  few  realise 
that  a  woman  is  a  creature  to  be  fought  for — -it  is  pre- 
historic instinct,  and  if  she  can't  be  obtained  in  fair  fight 
then  you  secure  her  by  strategy.  And  if  a  man  cannot 
keep  her  once  he  has  secured  her,  it  is  up  to  him.  If  I 
had  a  wife,  I  should  take  good  care  that  she  desired  no 
other  man — but  if  I  bored  her,  or  was  a  cold  and  bad 
lover,  I  should  not  expect  the  other  men  not  to  try  and 
take  her  from  me — because  I  should  know  this  was  a 


126  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

natural  instinct  with  them — like  taking  food.  It  would 
probably  be  no  temptation  to  most  of  us  to  steal  gold  ly- 
ing about  in  a  room,  even  if  we  were  poor,  but  a  hideous 
temptation  to  refrain  from  eating  a  tempting  dish  if  we 
were  starving  with  hunger  and  it  was  before  us — and  if 
a  woman  did  succumb  to  some  new  passion  I  should 
blame  «iyself,  not  her." 

Denzil  agreed. 

"Jealousy  is  a  natural  instinct,  though,"  he  said,  "and 
although  there  would  be  not  much  profit  in  trying  to 
hold  a  woman  who  no  longer  cared,  one  could  not  help 
being  mad  about  it." 

"Of  course  not — that  is  the  sense  of  personal  posses- 
sion which  is  affronted.  Vanity  is  deeply  wounded,  and 
so  the  power  to  analyse  cause  and  result  sleeps.  But  this 
attitude  which  men  take  up  of  neglecting  a  woman  and 
then  expecting  her  to  be  faithful  still  is  quite  ridiculous, 
and  without  logic ;  they  are  as  usual  fogged  by  convention 
and  can't  see  straight." 

Verisschenzko's  rough  voice  was  keen — compelling. 

Denzil  smiled. 

"Another  of  your  windmills  to  fight  1" 

"I  am  always  fighting  convention  and  shams.  Get 
down  to  the  meaning  of  a  thing,  and  if  its  true  signifi- 
cance coincides  with  the  convention  which  surrounds  it, 
then  let  that  hold,  but  if  convention  is  a  super-imposed 
growth,  then  amputate  it  and  study  the  thing  without  it." 

"I  suppose  a  man  marries  a  woman  nine  times  out  of 
ten  because  he  cannot  obtain  her  in  any  other  way ;  then 
when  he  has  become  indifferent  by  possession,  he  still 
thinks  that  she  should  remain  devoted  to  him.  You  are 
right,  Stepan,  it  is  very  illogical." 

"Club  the  creature,  or  keep  her  in  a  cage  if  you  want 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  127 

fidelity  through  fear,  but  don't  expect  it  if  you  allow  her 
to  remain  at  large  and  neglected,  and  don't  be  such  an 
ass  as  to  imagine  that  your  friends  won't  act  just  as  you 
yourself  would  act  were  she  some  one's  else  wife.  If  a 
woman  has  that  quality  in  her  which  arouses  sex,  mar- 
ried or  single,  I  never  have  observed  that  men  refrained 
from  making  love  to  her." 

"All  this  means  that  you  consider  I  am  quite  at  liberty 
to  make  love  to  Amaryllis  Ardayre!" 

"Quite." 

Denzil  threw  his  cigarette  end  into  the  fire: 

"Well,  for  once  you  are  wrong,  Stepan,  in  your  usually 
perfect  deductions,"  he  got  up  from  his  chair.  "There 
is  a  reason  in  this  case  which  makes  the  thing  an  absolute 
impossibility;  under  no  possible  circumstance  while  John 
is  alive  could  I  make  the  smallest  advance  towards 
Amaryllis!  There  is  another  point  of  honour  involved 
in  the  affair." 

Verisschenzko  felt  that  here  was  some  mystery  which 
he  had  yet  to  elucidate,  the  links  in  the  chain  were  visible 
up  to  a  point,  but  he  then  became  baffled  by  the  incontest- 
able fact  that  Denzil  had  seen  Amaryllis  that  evening 
for  the  first  time ! 

"If  this  is  so,  then  it  is  a  very  great  pity,"  he  an- 
nounced, after  a  moment  or  two's  thought.  "Were  the 
times  normal,  we  might  leave  all  to  Fate  and  trust  to 
luck,  but  if  you  are  killed  and  John  is  killed,  it  will  be  a 
thousand  pities  for  Ferdinand  to  be  the  head  of  the 
family.  A  creature  like  that  will  not  enlist,  he  will  be 
safe  while  you  risk  your  lives." 

Denzil  went  over  to  the  window,  apparently  to  get  out 
a  fresh  box  of  cigars  which  were  in  a  cabinet  near. 

"John  writes  to-night  that  there  is  the  chance  of  an 


128  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

heir  after  all — so  perhaps  we  need  not  worry,"  he  said, 
his  voice  a  little  hoarse  with  feeling.  "I  was  so  aw- 
fully glad  to  hear  this— we  all  loathe  the  thought  of 
Ferdinand." 

Verisschenzko  actually  was  startled,  and  also  he  was 
strangely  moved. 

"When  I  saw  my  lady  Amaryllis  to-night  that  idea 
came  to  me,  only  as  I  believed  it  was  quite  an  impossibil- 
ity— I  dismissed  it — It  is  a  war  miracle  then?"  and  he 
smiled  enquiringly. 

"Apparently." 

The  cigar  box  was  selected  and  Denzil  had  once  more 
resumed  his  seat  in  a  big  chair  before  either  of  them 
spoke  again. 

"I  perfectly  understand  that  there  is  some  mystery 
here,  Denzil — and  that  you  cannot  tell  me — and  equally 
I  cannot  ask  you  any  questions,  but  it  may  be  that  in 
the  days  that  are  coming  I  could  be  of  assistance  to  you. 
I  have  some  very  curious  information  which  I  am  holding 
concerning  Ferdinand  Ardayre  in  his  activities.  You  can 

always  count  on  me "  Verisschenzko  rose  from  his 

chair,  stirred  deeply  with  the  thoughts  which  were 
coursing  through  his  brain. 

"Denzil — I  love  that  woman — I  am  absolutely  deter- 
mined that  I  shall  not  do  so  in  any  way  but  in  spirit — I 
long  for  her  to  be  happy — protected.  She  has  an  ex- 
quisite soul — I  would  have  given  her  to  you  with  con- 
tentment. You  are  her  counterpart  upon  this  plane " 

Denzil  remained  silent,  he  had  never  seen  Stepan  so 
agitated.  The  situation  was  altogether  very  unusual. 
Then  he  asked : 

"Do  you  think  Ferdinand  will  make  some  protest 
then  ?" 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  129 

"It  is  possible." 

"But  there  is  absolutely  nothing  to  be  said,  the  fact 
of  there  being  a  child  refutes  all  the  old  rumours." 

"In  law " 

"In  every  way,"  a  flush  had  mounted  to  Denzil's 
forehead. 

"You  know  Lemon  Bridges?"  Verisschenzko  sug- 
gested. 

"Yes — why  do  you  ask?" 

"He  is  a  remarkably  clever  surgeon.  It  is  said  that  he 
is  also  a  gentleman ;  if  this  news  surprises  him  he  will 
not  express  his  feelings  probably." 

Stepan  was  observing  his  friend  with  the  minutest 
scrutiny  now,  while  he  spoke  lazily  once  more  as  though 
upon  a  casual  topic  bent,  and  he  saw  that  a  lightning  flash 
of  anxiety  passed  through  Denzil's  eyes. 

"I  do  not  see  how  any  one  can  have  a  word  to  say 
about  the  matter,"  and  he  lit  his  cigar  deliberately. 
"John  is  awfully  pleased " 

"And  so  am  I — and  so  are  you,  and  so  will  be  the  lady 
Amaryllis.  Thus  we  can  only  wish  for  general  happi- 
ness, and  not  anticipate  difficulties  which  may  never 
occur.  When  is  the  event  to  happen?" 

"The  beginning  of  next  May,"  Denzil  announced, 
without  hesitation,  and  then  the  flush  deepened,  for  he 
suddenly  remembered  that  John  had  not  mentioned  any 
date  in  his  letter! 

The  subject  was  growing  embarrassing,  and  he  asked, 
so  as  to  change  it : 

"What  is  your  friend,  Madame  Boleski,  doing  now, 
Stepan  ?" 

"She  is  receiving  news  from  Germany  which  1  shall  en- 
deavour to  have  her  transmit  to  me,  and  I  have  some 


i3o  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

suspicion  that  she  is  transmitting  any  information  which 
she  can  pick  up  here  to  Germany,  but  I  cannot  yet  be 
sure.  When  I  am,  then  I  shall  have  no  mercy.  She 
would  betray  any  country  for  an  hour's  personal  pleasure 
or  gain.  I  have  not  yet  discovered  who  the  man  was  at 
the  Ardayre  ball — I  told  you  about  it,  did  I  not?  Just 
then  more  important  matters  pressed  and  I  could  not 
follow  up  the  clue." 

"She  is  certainly  physically  attractive,  and  all  the  things 
she  says  are  so  obvious  and  easy,  she  is  quite  a  rest  at  a 
dinner,  but  Lord !  think  of  spending  one's  life  with  a 
woman  like  that !"  and  Denzil  smiled. 

"There  are  very  few  women  whom  it  would  be  possible 
to  contemplate  in  calmness  spending  one's  life  with,  be- 
cause one's  own  needs  change,  and  the  woman's  also. 
The  tie  is  a  galling  bond  unless  it  can  be  looked  at  with 
common  sense  by  both — but  I  think  men  are  quite  as 
illogical  as  women  over  it,  and  of  such  an  incredible 
vanity !  It  is  because  we  have  mixed  so  much  sentiment 
into  such  a  simple  nature-act  that  all  the  bothers  arise, 
and  men  are  unjust  over  every  thing  to  do  with  women. 
All  men  think,  for  instance,  that  a  woman  must  not  de- 
ceive her  lover  and,  at  the  same  time  that  she  is  appearing 
to  be  his  faithful  mistress,  take  another  for  her  pleasure 
and  diversion  in  secret.  A  man  would  look  upon  this 
and  rightly  as  a  dishonourable  betrayal  because  it  would 
wound  his  vanity  and  lower  his  personal  prestige.  But 
the  illogical  part  is  that  he  would  not  hesitate  to  do  the 
same  thing  himself,  and  would  never  see  the  matter  in  the 
light  of  a  betrayal,  because  the  Creator  has  happily 
equipped  him  with  a  rhinoceros  hide  which  enables  him 
never  to  feel  stings  of  self-contempt  when  viewing  his 
own  actions  towards  the  other  sex." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  131 

Denzil  laughed  aloud. 

"You  are  hard  on  us,  Stepan,  but  I  dare  say  you  are- 
right." 

"It  is  just  custom  and  convention  which  make  us  think 
ourselves  such  gods.  Had  woman  had  the  same  chance 
always,  who  knows  what  she  might  not  have  become  by 
now!  Everything  is  ticketed,  it  is  called  by  a  name  and 
put  down  under  such  and  such  a  heading — women  are 
'weak'  and  'illogical'  and  'unreliable'  and  men  are  'brave' 
and  'sound'  and  'to  be  trusted' — tosh !  in  quantities  of 
cases — and  if  so,  why  so?  Women  are  wonderful  beings 
in  many  ways — of  a  courage!  The  way  they  bear 
things  so  gladly  for  men — think  of  their  suffering  when 
they  have  children.  You  don't  know  about  it  probably, 
men  take  all  this  as  a  matter  of  course — but  I  saw  my 
sister  die — after  hours  of  it " 

Denzil  moved  his  arm  rather  suddenly  and  upset  the 
glass  of  lemon  squash  on  a  little  table  near. 

Verisschenzko  observed  this,  but  went  on  without  a 
break: 

"It  is  agony  for  them  under  the  best  conditions,  and 
sometimes  they  become  divine  over  it.  Amaryllis  will 
be  divine — I  hope  John  will  take  care  of  her " 

A  look  of  concern  came  into  Denzil's  face,  and  Veris- 
schenzko watched  him.  Could  any  one  be  more  attrac- 
tive as  a  splendid  mate  for  Amaryllis,  he  thought.  He 
crushed  down  all  feeling  of  human  jealousy.  His  intui- 
tion would  probably  reveal  all  the  mystery  to  him  pres- 
ently, and  meanwhile  if  he  could  forward  any  scheme 
which  would  be  for  the  good  of  Amaryllis  and  the 
security  of  the  family,  he  would  do  so. 

"I  must  leave  you  now,  old  man,"  he  said,  looking  at 
his  watch.  "I  have  a  rendezvous  with  Harietta.  I  shall 


132  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

have  to  play  the  part  of  an  ardent  lover  and  cannot  yet 
wring  her  neck." 

When  Denzil  was  alone,  he  stood  gazing  into  the  fire. 

"That  John  should  take  care  of  her?" — but  John  was 
going  out  to  fight — and  so  was  he — and  they  might  both 
be  killed— What  then? 

"Stepan  knows,  I  am  certain,"  he  thought,  "and  he  is 
true  as  steel ;  he  must  stand  by  her  if  we  don't  come 
back." 

And  then  his  thoughts  flew  to  the  vision  of  her  sitting 
opposite  him  at  the  table,  with  her  sweet  eyes  turned  to 
his  now  and  then,  the  faint  violet  shadows  beneath  them 
and  the  transparent  exquisiteness  of  her  skin  telling  their 
own  story  by  the  added,  fragile  beauty.  Oh!  what  un- 
utterable joy  to  hold  her  in  his  arms  and  whisper  pas- 
sionate love  words  in  her  little  ears,  to  live  again  the 
dream  of  her  dainty  head  lying  prone  there  on  his  breast. 
Every  pulse  in  his  being  throbbed  to  bursting,  seeming 
almost  to  suffocate  him. 

"Amaryllis — Sweetheart!"  he  whispered  aloud,  and 
then  started  at  his  own  voice. 

He  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  clenching  his  hands. 
The  family  might  go  on,  but  the  two  members  of  it  must 
endure  the  pain  of  renunciation. 

Which  was  the  harder  to  bear,  he  wondered — his  part 
of  hopeless  memory  and  regret,  or  John's  of  forced  denial 
and  abstinence? 

In  all  the  world,  no  situation  could  be  more  strange  or 
more  cruel. 

He  had  felt  deeply  about  it  before  he  had  seen  Ama- 
ryllis. He  thought  of  the  myth  of  Eros  and  Psyche. 
His  emotions  had  been  much  as  Psyche's  before  she  lit 
the  lamp.  And  now  the  lamp  had  been  lighted — his  eyes 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  133 

had  seen  what  his  arms  had  clasped,  the  reality  was  more 
lovely  than  his  dream,  and  passion  was  kindled  a 
hundredfold.  It  swept  him  off  his  feet. 

He  forgot  war  and  the  horror  of  the  time,  he  forgot 
everything  except  that  he  longed  for  Amaryllis. 

"She  is  mine,  absolutely  mine,"  he  said  wildly.  "Not 
John's." 

And  then  he  remembered  his  promise,  given  before  any 
personal  equation  had  entered  into  the  affair. 

Never  to  take  advantage  of  the  situation — afterwards ! 

And  what  would  the  child  be  like?  A  true  Ardayre, 
of  course — they  would  say  that  it  had  harked  back,  per- 
haps, to  that  Elizabethan  Denzil  whom  his  father  had 
told  him  was  his  exact  portrait  in  the  picture  gallery  at 
Ardayre. 

He  could  have  laughed  at  the  sardonic  humour  of 
everything  if  he  had  not  been  too  overcome  with 
passionate  desire  to  retain  any  critical  sense. 

Then  he  sat  down  and  forced  himself  to  realise  what 
it  meant — parenthood.  Not  much  to  a  man,  as  a  rule. 
He  had  looked  upon  those  occult  stirrings  of  the  spirit 
of  which  he  had  read  as  romantic  nonsense.  It  was  a 
natural  thing  and  all  right  if  a  man  had  a  place  for  him 
to  wish  to  have  a  son — but  otherwise,  sentimentality  over 
such  things  was  such  rot! 

And  yet  now  he  found  himself  thrilling  with  sentiment. 
He  would  like  to  talk  to  Amaryllis  all  about  it,  and  listen 
to  her  thoughts,  too.  And  then  he  remembered  the 
many  discussions  with  Verisschenzko  upon  the  theory  of 
re-birth  and  of  the  soul's  return  again  and  again  until  its 
lessons  are  learned  on  this  plane  of  existence,  and  he 
wondered  what  soul  would  animate  the  physical  form  of 
this  little  being  who  would  be  his  and  hers. 


i34  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

And  suddenly  in  his  mental  vision  the  walls  of  the 
room  seemed  to  fade,  and  he  was  only  conscious  of  a 
vastness  of  space,  and  knew  that  for  this  brief  moment 
he  was  looking  into  eternity  and  realising  for  the  first 
time  the  wonder  of  things. 

Meanwhile  Verisschenzko  had  returned  to  the  Carlton 
and  was  softly  walking  down  the  passage  towards  the 
Boleskis'  rooms.  The  ante-room  door  was  at  the  corner, 
and  as  he  was  about  ten  yards  from  it  a  man  came  out 
and  strode  rapidly  towards  the  lift  down  the  corridor  at 
right  angles,  but  the  bright  light  fell  upon  his  face  for  an 
instant,  and  Verisschenzko  saw  that  it  was  Ferdinand 
Ardayre. 

He  waited  where  he  was  until  he  heard  the  lift  doors 
shut,  and  even  then  he  paced  up  and  down  for  a  time  be- 
fore he  entered  the  sitting-room.  There  must  be  no 
suspicion  that  he  had  encountered  the  late  visitor. 

"Darling  Brute,  here  you  are !"  Harietta  cried  delight- 
edly, rising  from  her  sofa  and  throwing  herself  into  his 
arms.  "I've  packed  Stanislass  off  to  the  St.  James'  to 
play  piquet.  I  have  been  all  alone  waiting  for  you  for 
the  last  hour — I  began  to  fear  you  would  not  come." 

Verisschenzko  looked  at  her,  with  his  cynical,  humor- 
ous smile,  whose  meaning  never  reached  her.  He  took 
in  the  transparent  garments  which  hardly  covered  her, 
and  then  he  bent  and  picked  up  a  man's  handkerchief 
which  lay  on  a  table  near. 

"Tiens!  Harietta!"  he  remarked  lazily.  "Since  when 
has  Stanislass  taken  to  using  this  very  Eastern  perfume?" 
and  he  sniffed  with  disgust. 

The  wide  look  of  startled  innocence  grew  in  Madame 
Boleski's  hazel  eyes. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  135 

"I  believe  Stanislass  must  have  got  a  mistress,  Stepan. 
I  have  noticed  lately  these  scents  on  his  things — as  you 
know,  he  never  used  any  before !" 

"The  handkerchief  is  marked  with  'F.  A.'  I  suppose 
the  blanchisseuse  mixes  them  in  hotels.  Let  us  burn  the 
memento  of  a  husband's  straying  fancies  then;  the  taste 
in  perfumes  of  his  inamorata  is  anything  but  refined," 
and  Verisschenzko  tossed  the  bit  of  cambric  into  the  fire 
which  sparkled  in  the  grate. 

"I've  lots  of  news  to  tell  you,  Darling  Brute — but  I 
shan't — yet !  Have  you  come  to  England  to  see  that  bit 
of  bread  and  butter — or — ?" 

But  Verisschenzko,  with  a  fierce  savagery  which  she 
adored,  crushed  her  in  his  arms. 


CHAPTER  XI 

On  the  Tuesday  morning  after  the  Carlton  dinner,  fate 
fell  upon  Denzil  and  Amaryllis  in  the  way  the  jade  does 
at  times,  swooping  down  upon  them  suddenly  and  then 
like  a  whirlwind  altering  the  very  current  of  their  destiny. 
It  came  about  quite  naturally,  too,  and  not  by  one  of  those 
wildly  improbable  situations  which  often  prove  truth  to 
be  stranger  than  fiction. 

Amaryllis  was  settled  in  an  empty  compartment  of  the 
Weymouth  express  at  Paddington.  She  had  said  good- 
bye to  John  the  evening  before,  and  he  had  returned  to 
camp.  She  was  going  back  to  Ardayre,  and  feeling  very 
miserable.  Everything  had  been  a  disillusion.  John's 
reserve  seemed  to  have  augmented,  and  she  had  been  un- 
able to  break  it  down,  and  all  the  new  emotions  which  she 
was  trembling  with  and  longing  to  express,  had  grown 
chilled. 

Presumably  John  must  be  pleased  at  the  possibility  of 
having  a  son  since  it  was  his  heart's  desire :  but  it  almost 
seemed  as  though  the  subject  embarrassed  him!  And  all 
the  beautiful  things  which  she  had  meant  to  say  to  him 
about  it  remained  unspoken. 

He  was  stolidly  matter-of-fact. 

What  could  it  all  mean  ? 

At  last  she  had  become  deeply  hurt  and  had  cried  with 
a  tremour  in  her  voice  the  morning  before  he  left  her : 

"Oh !  John,  how  different  you  have  become ;  it  can't  be 
136 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  137 

the  same  you  who  once  called  me  'Sweetheart'  and  held 
me  so  closely  in  your  arms !  Have  I  done  anything  to 
displease  you,  dearest?  Aren't  you  glad  that  I  am  going 
to  have  a  baby?" 

He  had  kissed  her  and  assured  her  gravely  that  he  was 
glad — overjoyed.  And  his  eyes  had  been  full  of  pain, 
and  he  had  added  that  he  was  stupid  and  dull,  but  that 
she  must  not  mind — it  was  only  his  way. 

"Alas !"  she  had  answered  and  nothing  more. 

She  dwelt  upon  these  things  as  she  sat  in  the  train  gaz- 
ing out  of  the  window  on  the  blank  side. 

Yes.  Joy  was  turning  into  dead  sea  fruit.  How  mov- 
ing her  thoughts  had  been  when  coming  up  to  meet  him ! 

The  marvel  of  love  creating  life  had  exalted  her  and 
she  had  longed  to  pour  her  tender  visionings  into  the  ears 
of — her  lover !  For  John  had  been  thus  enshrined  in  her 
fond  imagination! 

The  whole  idea  of  having  a  child  to  her  was  a  sacred 
wonder  with  little  of  earth  in  it,  and  she  had  woven  ex- 
quisite sentiment  round  it  and  had  dreamed  fair  dreams 
of  how  she  would  whisper  her  thoughts  to  John  as  she 
lay  clasped  to  his  heart ;  and  John,  too,  would  be  thrilled 
with  exaltation,  for  was  not  the  glorious  mystery  his  as 
well — not  hers  alone? 

Now  everything  looked  grey. 

Tears  rose  in  her  eyes.  Then  she  took  herself  to  task ; 
it  was  perhaps  only  her  foolish  romance  leading  her 
astray  once  more.  The  thought  might  mean  nothing  to  a 
man  beyond  the  pride  of  having  a  son  to  carry  on  his 
name.  If  the  baby  should  be  a  little  girl  John  might  not 
care  for  it  at  all ! 

The  tears  brimmed  over  and  fell  upon  a  big  crimson 
carnation  in  her  coat,  a  bunch  of  which  John  had  ordered 


138  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

to  be  sent  her,  and  which  were  now  safely  reposing  in  a 
card-board  box  in  the  rack  above  her  head. 

Fortunately  she  had  the  carriage  to  herself.  No  one 
had  attempted  to  get  in,  and  they  would  soon  be  off.  To 
be  away  from  London  would  be  a  relief. 

Then  her  thoughts  flew  to  Verisschenzko ;  he  had  told 
her  that  circumstances  in  his  country  might  require  his 
frequent  presence  in  England  for  the  next  few  months. 

She  would  see  him  again.  What  would  he  tell  her  to 
do  now?  Conquer  emotion  and  look  at  things  with 
common  sense. 

The  picture  of  the  dinner  at  the  Carlton  then  came 
back  to  her,  and  the  face  of  Denzil  across  the  table,  so 
like,  and  yet  so  unlike  John ! 

If  Denzil  had  a  wife  would  he  be  cold  to  her?  Was  it 
in  the  nature  of  all  Ardayres? 

At  the  very  instant  the  train  began  to  move  the  carriage 
was  invaded  by  a  man  in  khaki  who  bounded  in  and  al- 
most fell  by  her  knees,  and  with  a  cheery  'Just  done  it, 
Sir!'  the  guard  flung  in  a  dressing-bag  and  slammed  the 
door,  and  she  realised  with  conscious  interest  that  the 
intruder  was  Denzil  Ardayre! 

"How  do  you  do?  By  Jove.  I  am  awfully  sorry," 
and  he  held  out  his  hand.  "I  nearly  lost  the  train  and 
I  am  afraid  I  have  bundled  in  without  asking  leave.  I 
am  going  down  to  Bath  to  say  good-bye  to  my  mother.  I 
say,  do  forgive  me  if  I  startled  you,"  and  he  looked  full 
of  concern. 

Amaryllis  laughed ;  she  was  nervous  and  overstrung. 

"Your  entrance  was  certainly  sudden  and  in  this  non- 
stop to  Westbury  we  shall  have  to  put  up  with  each  other 
till  then — shall  you  mind  ?" 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  139 

"Awfully—  Must  I  say  that  the  truth  would  be  that 
I  am  enchanted !" 

Fortune  had  flung  him  these  two  hours.  He  had  not 
planned  them,  his  conscience  was  clear,  and  he  could  not 
help  delight  rushing  through  him.  Two  hours  with  her — 
alone ! 

There  are  some  blue  eyes  which  seem  to  have  a  spark 
of  the  devil  lurking  in  them  always,  even  when  they  are 
serious.  Denzil's  were  such  eyes.  Women  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  resist  his  charm,  and  indeed  had  never  tried  very 
hard.  Life  and  its  living,  knowledge  to  acquire,  work  to 
do,  beasts  to  hunt,  had  not  left  him  too  much  time  to  be 
spoiled  by  them  fortunately,  and  he  had  passed  through 
several  adventures  safely  and  had  never  felt  anything  but 
the  most  transient  emotion,  until  now  looking  at  Amaryllis 
sitting  opposite  him  he  knew  that  he  was  in  love  with  this 
dream  which  had  materialised. 

Amaryllis  studied  him  while  they  talked  of  ordinary 
things  and  the  war  news  and  when  he  would  go  out. 
She  felt  some  strong  attraction  drawing  her  to  him.  Her 
sense  of  depression  left  her.  She  found  herself  noticing 
how  the  sun  which  had  broken  through  a  cloud  turned  his 
immaculately  brushed  hair  into  bronze.  She  did  a  little 
modelling  to  amuse  herself,  and  so  appreciated  balance 
and  line. 

Everything  in  Denzil  was  in  the  right  place,  she  de- 
cided, and  above  all  he  looked  so  peculiarly  alive.  He 
seemed,  indeed,  to  be  the  reality  of  what  her  imagination 
had  built  up  round  the  personality  of  John  in  the  weeks 
of  their  separation.  Denzil  believed  that  he  was  talking 
quite  casually,  but  his  glance  was  ardent,  and  atmosphere 
becomes  charged  when  emotions  are  strong  no  matter  how 


140  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

insignificant  words  may  be.  Amaryllis  felt  that  he  was 
deeply  interested  in  her. 

"You  know  my  friend  Verisschenzko  well,  it  seems," 
she  said  presently.  "-Is  not  he  a  fascinating  creature?  I 
always  feel  stimulated  when  I  am  with  him,  and  as  if  I 
must  accomplish  great  things." 

"Stepan  is  a  wonder — we  were  at  Oxford  together — 
he  can  do  anything  he  desires.  He  is  a  musician  and  an 
artist  and  is  chock  full  of  common  sense,  and  there's  not 
a  touch  of  rot.  He  would  have  taken  honours  if  he  had 
not  been  sent  down." 

Amaryllis  wanted  to  know  about  this,  and  listened 
amazedly  to  the  story  of  the  mad  freak  which  had  so 
scandalised  the  Dons. 

She  had  recovered  from  her  nervousness,  she  was  nat- 
ural and  delightful,  and  although  the  peculiar  situation 
was  filling  Denzil  with  excitement  and  emotion,  he  was  too 
much  a  man  of  the  world  to  experience  any  gene.  So 
they  talked  for  a  while  with  friendliness  upon  interesting 
things.  Then  a  pause  came  and  Amaryllis  looked  out  of 
the  window,  and  Denzil  had  time  to  grow  aware  that  he 
must  hold  himself  with  a  tighter  hand,  a  sense  almost  of 
intoxication  had  begun  to  steal  over  him. 

Suddenly  Amaryllis  grew  very  pale  and  her  eyelids 
flickered  a  little;  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  felt 
faint. 

He  bent  forward  in  anxiety  as  she  leaned  her  head 
against  the  cushioned  division. 

"Oh !  what  is  it,  you  poor  little  darling !  what  can  I 
do  for  you?"  he  exclaimed,  unconscious  that  he  had  used 
a  word  of  endearment ;  but  even  though  things  had  grown 
vague  for  her  Amaryllis  caught  the  tenderly  pronounced 
'darling'  and,  physically  ill  as  she  felt,  her  spirit  thrilled 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  141 

with  some  agreeable  surprise.  He  came  nearer  and  push- 
ing up  the  padded  divisions  between  the  seats,  he  lifted 
her  as  though  she  had  been  a  baby  and  laid  her  flat  down. 
He  got  out  his  flask  from  his  dressing  bag  and  poured 
some  brandy  between  her  pale  lips,  then  he  rubbed  her 
hands,  murmuring  he  knew  not  what  of  commiseration. 
She  looked  so  fragile  and  helpless  and  the  probable  reason 
of  her  indisposition  was  of  such  infinite  solicitude  to 
himself. 

"To  think  that  she  is  feeling  like  that  because —  Ah ! 
— and  I  may  not  even  kiss  her  and  comfort  her,  or  tell  her 
I  adore  her  and  understand."  So  his  thoughts  ran. 

Presently  Amaryllis  sat  up  and  opened  her  eyes.  She 
had  not  actually  fainted,  but  for  a  few  moments  every- 
thing had  grown  dim  and  she  was  not  certain  of  what 
had  happened,  or  if  she  had  dreamed  that  Denzil  had 
spoken  a  love  word,  or  whether  it  was  true — she  smiled 
feebly. 

"I  did  feel  so  queer,"  she  explained.  "How  silly  of 
me!  I  have  never  felt  faint  before — it  is  stupid" — and 
then  she  blushed  deeply,  remembering  what  certainly 
must  be  the  cause. 

"I  am  going  to  open  the  window  wide,"  he  said,  appre- 
ciating the  blush,  and  let  it  down.  "You  ought  not  to 
sit  with  your  back  to  the  engine  like  that,  let  us  change 
sides." 

He  took  command  and  drew  her  to  her  feet,  and  placed 
her  gently  in  his  vacant  seat ;  then  he  sat  down  opposite 
her  and  looked  at  her  with  anxious  eyes. 

"I  sit  that  way  as  a  rule  because  of  avoiding  the  dust, 
but,  of  course,  it  was  that.  I  am  not  generally  such  a 
goose  though — it  is  the  nastiest  feeling  that  I  have  ever 
known." 


r42  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"You  poor  dear  little  girl,"  his  deep  voice  said.  "You 
must  shut  your  eyes  and  not  talk  now." 

She  obeyed,  and  he  watched  her  intently  as  she  lay  back 
with  her  eyes  closed,  the  long  lashes  resting  upon  her  pale 
cheeks.  She  looked  childish  and  a  little  pathetic,  and 
every  fibre  of  his  being  quivered  with  desire  to  protect 
her.  He  had  never  felt  so  profoundly  in  his  life — and 
the  whole  thing  was  so  complicated.  He  tried  to  force 
himself  to  remember  that  he  was  not  travelling  with  his 
wife  whom  he  could  take  care  of  and  cherish  because  she 
was  going  to  have  his  child,  but  that  he  was  travelling 
with  John's  wife  whom  he  hardly  knew  and  must  take  no 
more  interest  in  than  any  Ardayre  would  in  the  wife  of 
the  head  of  the  family ! 

He  could  have  laughed  at  the  extraordinary  irony  of 
the  thing,  if  it  had  not  been  so  moving. 

Verisschenzko,  had  he  been  there  and  known  the  cir- 
cumstances, would  have  taken  joy  in  analysing  what  na- 
ture was  saying  to  them  both ! 

Amaryllis  was  only  conscious  that  Denzil  seemed  the 
reality  of  her  dream  of  John,  and  that  she  liked  his  near- 
ness— and  Denzil  only  knew  that  he  loved  her  extremely 
and  must  banish  emotion  and  remember  his  given  word. 
So  he  pulled  himself  together  when  she  sat  up  presently 
and  began  talking  again,  and  gradually  the  atmosphere  of 
throbbing  excitement  between  them  calmed.  They  spoke 
of  each  other's  tastes  and  likings  and  found  many  to  be 
the  same.  Then  they  spoke  of  books,  and  each  discovered 
that  the  other  was  sufficiently  well  read  to  be  able  to  dis- 
cuss varied  favourite  authors. 

An  understanding  and  sympathy  had  grown  up  between 
them  before  they  reached  Westbury,  and  yet  Denzil  was 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  143 

really  trying  to  keep  his  word  in  the  spirit  as  well  as  the 
letter. 

Amaryllis  felt  no  constraint — she  was  more  friendly 
than  she  would  have  been  with  any  other  man  she  knew 
so  slightly.  Were  they  not  cousins,  and  was  it  not  per- 
fectly natural ! 

They  talked  of  Oxford  and  of  the  effect  it  had  upon 
young  men,  and  again  they  spoke  of  Stepan  and  of  the 
dream  he  and  Denzil  shared. 

"You  will  go  into  Parliament,  I  suppose,  when  you 
come  back  from  the  war?"  she  remarked  at  last.  "If 
you  have  dreams  they  should  become  realities.  .  .  ." 

"That  is  what  I  intend  to  do.  The  war  may  last  a 
long  time  though — but  it  ought  to  teach  one  something, 
and  England  will  be  a  vastly  different  place  after  it,  and 
perhaps  the  younger  men  who  have  fought  may  have  a 
greater  chance." 

"You  have  pet  theories,  of  course." 

"I  suppose  so — I  believe  that  the  first  great  step  will 
be  to  give  the  people  better  homes — the  housing  question 
is  what  I  am  going  to  devote  my  energy  to.  I  am  sure 
it  is  the  root  of  nearly  every  evil.  Every  man  and  woman 
who  works  should  have  the  right  to  a  good  home.  I  have 
two  supreme  interests — that  is  one,  and  the  other  is 
elimination  of  the  wastrels  and  the  unfit.  I  am  quite 
ruthless,  perhaps,  you  will  think.  But  there  is  such  a 
sickening  lot  of  mawkish  sentiment  mixed  up  with  nearly 
every  scheme  to  benefit  workers.  I  agree  with  Stepan 
who  always  preaches :  Get  down  to  the  commonsense 
point  of  view  about  a  thing.  Prune  the  convention  and 
religion  and  sentimentality  first  and  then  you  can  judge." 

Amaryllis  thought  for  a  moment;  her  eyes  became 


144  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

wide  and  dreamy,  and  her  charmingly  set  head  was  a 
little  thrown  back.  Denzil  took  in  the  line  of  her  white 
throat  and  the  curve  of  her  chin — it  was  not  weak.  Why 
was  it  that  women  with  the  possibilities  of  this  one  always 
seemed  to  be  some  other  man's  property !  He  had  never 
come  across  such  charm  in  girls.  Or  was  it  that  marriage 
developed  charm  ? 

They  neither  of  them  spoke  for  a  minute  or  two,  each 
busy  with  speculation. 

"I  want  to  do  something,"  Amaryllis  said  at  last,  "not 
only  just  make  shirts  and  socks,"  and  then  the  pink 
flushed  her  cheeks  again  suddenly  as  she  remembered  that 
she  would  not  be  fit  for  more  strenuous  work  for  quite  a 
long  time — and  then  the  war  would  be  over,  of  course. 

Denzil  thought  the  same  thing  without  the  last  qualifi- 
cation. He  was  under  no  delusions  as  to  the  speedy  end 
of  strife. 

He  could  not  help  visioning  the  wonderful  interest  the 
hope  of  a  son  would  be  to  him  if  she  really  were  his  wife 
— how  filled  with  supreme  sympathy  and  tenderness  would 
be  the  months  coming  on.  How  they  would  talk  together 
about  their  wishes  and  the  mystery  and  the  glory  of  the 
evolution  of  life.  And  here  she  had  blushed  at  some 
thought  concerning  it,  and  no  words  must  pass  between 
them  about  this  sacred  thing.  He  longed  to  ask  her  many 
questions — and  then  a  pang  of  jealousy  shook  him.  She 
would  confide  to  John,  not  to  him,  all  the  emotions 
aroused  by  the  thought  of  the  child — then.  He  wondered 
what  she  would  do  in  the  winter  all  alone.  Had  she  re- 
lations she  was  fond  of?  He  wished  that  she  knew  his 
Mother,  who  was  the  kindest  sweetest  lady  in  the  world. 
He  said  aloud : 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  145 

"I  would  like  you  to  meet  my  Mother.  She  is  going 
to  be  at  Bath  for  a  month.  She  is  almost  an  invalid  with 
rheumatism  in  her  ankle  where  she  broke  it  five  years 
ago.  I  believe  you  would  get  on." 

"I  should  love  to — it  is  not  an  impossible  distance  from 
us.  I  will  go  over  to  see  her,  if  you  will  tell  her  about 
me — so  that  she  won't  think  some  stranger  is  descending 
upon  her  some  day !" 

"She  will  be  so  pleased,"  and  he  thought  that  he  would 
be  happier  knowing  that  they  were  friends. 

"Does  she  mean  a  great  deal  to  you?  Some  mothers 
do,"  and  she  sighed — her  own  was  less  than  emptiness — 
they  had  never  been  near,  and  now  her  stepfather  and  the 
step-family  claimed  all  the  affection  her  mother  could  feel. 

"She  is  a  great  dear — one  of  my  best  friends,"  and  his 
eyes  beamed.  "We  have  always  been  pals — because  I 
have  no  brothers  and  sisters  I  suppose  she  spoilt  me !" 

"I  daresay  you  were  quite  a  nice  little  boy!"  Amaryllis 
smiled — "and  it  must  be  divine  to  have  a  son — I  expect  it 
would  be  easy  to  spoil  one." 

Denzil  clasped  his  hands  rather  tightly — she  looked  so 
adorable  as  she  said  that,  her  eyes  soft  with  inward  knowl- 
edge of  her  great  hope.  How  impossible  it  all  was  that 
they  must  remain  strangers — casual  cousins  and  nothing 
more. 

"It  must  be  an  awful  responsibility  to  have  children," 
he  said,  watching  her.  "Don't  you  think  so  ?" 

The  pink  flared  up  again  as  she  answered  a  rather 
solemn  "Yes." 

Then  she  went  on,  a  little  hurriedly : 

"One  would  try  to  study  their  characters  and  lead  them 
to  the  highest  good,  as  gardeners  watch  over  and  train 


146  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

plants  until  they  come  to  perfection.  But  what  funny, 
serious  things  we  are  talking  about,"  and  she  gave  a  little, 
nervous  laugh —  "Like  two  old  grandfather  phi- 
losophers." 

"It  is  rather  a  treat  to  talk  seriously ;  one  so  seldom  has 
the  chance  to  meet  any  one  who  understands." 

"To  understand !"  and  she  sighed.  "Alas —  How 
quite  perfect  life  would  be — "  and  then  she  stopped 
abruptly.  If  she  continued  her  words  might  contain  a 
reflection  upon  John. 

Denzil  bent  forward  eagerly — what  had  she  been  going 
to  say  ? 

She  saw  his  blue  attractive  eyes  gazing  at  her  so 
ardently  and  some  delicious  thrill  passed  through  her. 
But  Denzil  recovered  himself,  and  leaned  back  in  his 
seat — while  he  abruptly  changed  the  conversation  by  re- 
marking casually : 

"I  have  never  seen  Ardayre.  I  would  love  to  look  at 
our  common  ancestors.  My  father  used  to  say  there  was 
an  Elizabethan  Denzil  who  was  rather  like  me.  -I  suppose 
we  are  all  stamped  with  the  same  brand." 

"I  know  him !"  Amaryllis  cried  delightedly.  "He  is  up 
at  the  end  of  the  gallery  in  puffed  white  satin  and  a  ruff. 
Of  course,  you  must  come  and  see  him;  he  has  exactly 
the  same  eyes." 

"The  whole  family  are  alive  I  believe — we  were  a 
tenacious  lot !" 

"If  you  and  John  both  get  leave  at  Christmas  you  must 
come  with  him  and  spend  it  at  Ardayre — I  shall  have 
made  your  Mother's  acquaintance  by  then,  and  we  must 
persuade  her  too." 

Then  the  train  stopped  at  Westbury. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Denzil  had  got  out  to  get  some  papers  which  he  had 
been  to  hurried  to  secure  at  Paddington  tipping  the  guard 
on  the  way,  so  that  an  old  gentleman  who  showed  signs 
of  desiring  to  enter  was  warded  off  to  another  compart- 
ment. Thus  when  the  train  re-started,  they  were  again 
left  alone. 

Amaryllis  had  partially  recovered  and  was  looking 
nearly  her  usual  self,  but  for  the  violet  shadows  beneath 
her  eyes.  She  glanced  at  the  papers  which  he  handed  to 
her,  and  Denzil  retired  behind  the  Times.  He  wanted  to 
think ;  he  must  not  let  himself  slip  out  of  hand.  He  must 
resolutely  stamp  out  all  the  emotion  that  she  was  causing 
him;  he  despised  weakness  of  any  sort. 

He  thought  of  Verisschenzko's  words  about  laws  be- 
ing powerless  to  control  a  man's  actions,  when  a  natural 
force  is  prompting  him,  unless  he  uses  self -analysis,  and 
so  by  gaining  knowledge  permits  the  spirit  to  conquer. 
He  recollected  that  he  had  transgressed  often  without  a 
backward  thought  in  past  days  with  other  women,  but 
now  his  honour  was  engaged  even  apart  from  his  firm 
belief  in  Stepan's  favourite  saying,  that  a  man  must  never 
sully  the  wrong  thing.  Then  the  argument  they  had 
often  had  about  indulgences  came  to  him,  and  the  truth 
of  the  only  possibility  of  their  enjoyment  being  while  they 
remained  servants,  not  masters. 

He  had  had  his  indulgences  in  the  two  hours  to  West- 
bury,  and  had  very  nearly  let  it  conquer  him,  more  than 
i47 


148  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

once,  and  now  he  must  not  only  curb  all  friendly  words 
and  delightful  dalliance  with  forbidden  topics,  but  he 
must  fed  no  more  passion. 

He  made  himself  read  the  war  news  and  try  to  visu- 
alize the  grim  reality  behind  the  official  phrasing  of  the 
communiques.  And  gradually  he  became  calm,  and  was 
almost  startled  when  Amaryllis,  who  had  been  watching 
him  furtively  and  had  begun  to  wonder  if  he  was  really 
so  interested  in  his  paper,  said  timidly : 

"Will  you  pull  the  window  up  a  little?  It  seems  to 
be  growing  cold." 

She  noticed  that  his  lips  were  set  firmly  and  that  an 
abstracted  expression  had  grown  in  his  eyes. 

Then  Denzil  spoke,  now  quite  naturally  and  about  the 
war,  and  deliberately  kept  the  conversation  to  this  sub- 
ject, until  Amaryllis  lay  back  again  in  her  corner  and 
closed  her  eyes. 

"I  am  going  to  have  a  little  sleep,"  she  said. 

She  too  had  begun  to  realise  that  in  more  personal  in- 
vestigation of  mutual  tastes  there  lay  some  danger.  She 
had  become  conscious  of  the  fact  that  she  was  very  in- 
terested in  Denzil — and  there  he  was,  not  really  the  least 
like  John ! 

They  were  silent  for  some  time,  and  were  nearing 
Frome  when  he  spoke.  He  had  been  deliberating  as  to 
what  he  ought  to  do?  Get  out  and  leave  her,  to  catch 
his  connection  to  Bath,  or  sacrifice  that  and  see  her  safely 
to  her  destination  and  perhaps  hire  a  motor  from 
Bridgeborough  ? 

This  latter  was  his  strong  desire  and  also  seemed  the 
only  chivalrous  thing  to  do  when  she  still  looked  so  pale, 
but 

"Here  we  are  almost  at  Frome,"  he  said. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  149 

Her  eyes  rounded  with  concern.  It  would  be  horrid 
to  be  alone.  She  had  left  her  maid  in  London  for  a  few 
days'  holiday. 

"You  change  here  for  Bath,"  she  faltered  a  little 
uncertainly. 

He  decided  in  a  second.  He  could  not  be  inhuman! 
Duty  and  desire  were  one ! 

"Yes — but  I  am  coming  on  with  you.  I  shall  not 
leave  you  until  I  see  you  safely  into  your  own  motor.  I 
can  hire  one  perhaps  then,  to  take  me  on  the  rest  of  the 
way." 

She  was  relieved — or  she  thought  it  was  merely  re- 
lief, which  made  a  sudden  lifting  in  her  heart! 

"How  kind  of  you.  I  do  feel  as  if  I  did  not  like  the 
thought  of  being  by  myself,  it  is  so  stupid  of  me — But  you 
can't  hire  a  motor  from  Bridgeborough  which  would  get 
you  to  Bath  before  dark!  They  are  wretched  things 
there.  You  must  come  with  me  to  Ardayre ;  it  is  on  the 
Bath  road,  you  know — and  we  can  have  a  late  lunch,  and 
and  then  I'll  send  you  on  in  the  Rolls  Royce.  You  will 
be  there  in  an  hour — in  time  for  tea." 

This  was  a  tremendous  fresh  temptation.  He  tried  to 
look  at  it  as  though  it  did  not  in  reality  matter  to  him  more 
than  the  appearance  suggested.  Had  there  been  no  emo- 
tion in  his  interest  in  Amaryllis,  he  would  not  have  hesi- 
tated, he  knew. 

Then  it  was  only  for  him  to  conquer  emotion  and  be- 
have as  he  would  do  under  ordinary  circumstances — it 
would  be  a  good  test  of  his  will. 

"All  right — that's  splendid,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  see 
Ardayre !" 

It  was  when  they  were  in  Amaryllis's  own  little  coupe 
Yery  close  to  each  other  that  strong  temptation  assailed 


i50  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Denzil.  He  suddenly  felt  his  pulses  throbbing  wildly  and 
it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  he  prevented  himself 
from  clasping  her  in  his  arms.  He  tried  to  look  out  of 
the  window  and  take  an  interest  in  the  park,  which  was 
entered  very  soon  after  leaving  the  station.  He  told  him- 
self Ardayre,  was  something  which  deserved  his  attention 
and  he  looked  for  the  first  view  of  the  house,  but  all  his 
will  could  only  keep  his  arms  from  transgressing,  it  could 
not  control  the  riot  of  his  thoughts. 

Amaryllis  was  conscious  in  some  measure  that  he  was 
far  from  calm,  and  her  own  heart  began  to  beat  unac- 
countably. She  talked  rather  fast  about  the  place  and 
its  history,  and  both  were  relieved  when  the  front  door 
came  in  sight. 

There  was  a  welcoming  smell  of  burning  logs  in  the  hall 
to  greet  them,  and  the  old  butler  could  not  restrain  an  ex- 
pression of  startled  curiosity  when  he  saw  Denzil,  the 
likeness  to  his  master  was  so  great. 

"This  is  Captain  Ardayre,  Filson,"  Amaryllis  said, 
"Sir  John's  cousin,"  and  then  she  gave  the  order  about 
the  motor  to  take  Denzil  on  to  Bath. 

They  went  through  the  Henry  VII.  inner  hall,  and  on 
to  the  green  drawing-room,  with  its  air  of  home  and  com- 
fort, in  spite  of  its  great  size  and  stateliness. 

There  were  no  portraits  here,  but  some  fine  specimens 
of  the  Dutch  school,  and  the  big  tawny  dogs  rose  to  wel- 
come their  mistress  and  were  introduced  to  their  "new 
relation." 

She  was  utterly  fascinating,  Denzil  thought,  playing 
with  them  there  on  the  great  bear  skin  rug. 

"We  shall  lunch  at  once,"  she  told  him,  "and  then  rush 
through  the  pictures  afterwards  before  you  start  for 
Bath." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  15* 

They  both  tried  to  talk  of  ordinary  things  for  the  few 
moments  before  that  meal  was  announced,  and  then  some 
kind  of  devilment  seemed  to  come  into  Amaryllis — noth- 
ing could  have  been  more  seductive  or  alluring  than  her 
manner,  while  keeping  to  strict  convention.  The  bright 
pink  colour  glowed  in  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  sparkled. 
She  could  not  have  accounted  for  her  mood  herself.  It 
was  one  of  excitement  and  interest. 

Denzil  had  the  hardest  fight  he  had  ever  been  through, 
and  he  grew  almost  gruff  in  consequence.  He  was  really 
suffering. 

He  admired  the  way  she  acted  as  hostess,  and  the  way 
the  home  was  done.  He  hardly  felt  anything  else,  though 
apart  from  her  he  would  have  been  interested  in  his  first 
view  of  Ardayre,  but  she  absorbed  all  other  emotions,  he 
only  knew  that  he  desired  to  make  passionate  love  to  her, 
or  to  get  away  as  quickly  as  he  could. 

"Are  you  going  to  remain  here  all  the  winter  ?"  he  asked 
her  presently,  as  they  rose  from  the  table,  "or  shall  you  go 
to  London?  You  will  be  awfully  lonely,  won't  you,  if 
you  stay  here?" 

"I  love  the  country  and  I  am  growing  to  love  and  under- 
stand the  place.  John  wants  me  to  so  much,  it  means 
more  to  him  than  anything  else  in  the  world.  I  shall  re- 
main until  after  Christmas  anyway.  But  come  now,  I 
want  just  to  take  you  into  the  church,  because  there  are 
two  such  fine  tombs  there  of  both  our  ancestors,  yours 
and  mine.  We  can  go  out  of  the  windows  and  come  back 
for  coffee  in  the  cedar  parlour." 

Denzil  acquiesced ;  he  wished  to  see  the  church.  They 
reached  it  in  a  minute  or  two  and  Amaryllis  opened  the 
door  with  her  own  key  and  led  him  on  up  the  aisle  to  the 


152  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

recumbent  knights — and  then  she  whispered  their  history 
to  him,  standing  where  a  ray  of  sunlight  turned  her 
brown  hair  into  gold. 

"I  wonder  what  their  lives  were,"  Denzil  said,  "and  if 
they  lived  and  loved  and  fought  their  desires — as  we  do 
now — the  younger  one's  face  looks  as  though  he  had  not 
always  conquered  his.  Stepan  would  say  his  indulgences 
had  become  his  masters,  not  his  servants,  I  expect." 

"Verisschenzko  is  wonderful — he  makes  one  want  to 
be  strong,"  and  Amaryllis  sighed.  "I  wonder  how  many 
of  us  even  begin  to  fight  our  desires " 

"One  has  to  be  strong  always  if  one  wants  to  attain — 
but  sometimes  it  is  only  honour  which  holds  one — and 
weaklings  are  so  pitiful." 

"What  is  honour?"  Her  eyes  searched  his  face  wist- 
fully. "Is  it  being  true  to  some  canon  of  the  laws  of 
chivalry,  or  is  it  being  true  to  some  higher  thing  in  one's 
own  soul?" 

Denzil  leaned  against  the  tomb  and  he  thought  deeply : 
then  he  looked  straight  into  her  eyes : 

"Honour  lies  in  not  betraying  a  trust  reposed  in  one, 
either  in  the  spirit  or  in  the  letter." 

"Then,  when  we  say  of  a  man  'he  acted  honourably,' 
we  mean  that  he  did  not  betray  a  trust  placed  in  him,  even 
if  it  was  only  perhaps  by  circumstance  and  not  by  a 
person." 

"It  is  simply  that — keeping  faith.  If  a  man  stole  a 
sum  of  money  from  a  friend,  the  dishonour  would  not  be 
in  the  act  of  stealing,  which  is  another  offence — but  in 
abusing  his  friend's  trust  in  him  by  committing  that  act." 

"Dishonour  is  a  betrayal  then " 

"Of  course." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  153 

"Why  would  this  knight" — and  she  placed  her  hand  on 
the  marble  face,  "have  said  that  he  must  kill  another  who 
had  stolen  his  wife,  say,  to  avenge  his  'honour'  ?" 

"That  is  the  conventional  part  of  it — what  Stepan  calls 
the  grafting  on  of  a  meaning  to  suit  some  idea  of  civilisa- 
tion. It  was  a  nice  way  of  having  personal  revenges  too 
and  teaching  people  that  they  could  not  steal  anything  with 
impunity.  If  we  analysed  that  kind  of  honour  we  would 
find  it  was  principally  vanity.  The  dishonour  really  lay 
with  the  wife,  if  she  deceived  her  husband — and  with  the 
other  man  if  he  was  the  husband's  friend — if  he  was  not, 
his  abduction  of  the  woman  was  not  'dishonourable'  be- 
cause he  was  not  trusted,  it  was  merely  an  act  of  theft." 

"What  then  must  we  do  when  we  are  very  strongly 
tempted?"  Her  voice  was  so  low  he  could  hardly  hear 
it. 

"It  is  sometimes  wisest  to  run  away,"  and  he  turned 
from  her  and  moved  towards  the  door. 

She  followed  wondering.  She  knew  not  why  she  had 
promoted  this  discussion.  She  felt  that  she  had  been 
very  unbalanced  all  the  day. 

They  went  back  to  the  house  almost  silently  and  through 
the  green  drawing-room  window  again  and  up  the  broad 
stairs  with  Sir  William  Hamilton's  huge  decorative  paint- 
ing of  an  Ardayre  group  of  his  time,  filling  one  vast  wall 
at  the  turn. 

And  so  they  reached  the  cedar  parlour,  and  found  coffee 
waiting  and  cigarettes. 

There  was  a  growing  tension  between  them  and  each 
guessed  that  the  other  was  not  calm.  Amaryllis  began 
showing  him  the  view  from  the  windows  across  the  park, 
and  then  the  old  fireplace  and  panelling  of  the  room. 


154  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"We  sit  here  generally  when  we  are  alone,"  she  said. 
"I  like  it  the  best  of  all  the  rooms  in  the  house." 

"It  is  a  fitting  frame  for  you." 

They  lit  cigarettes. 

Denzil  had  many  things  he  longed  to  say  to  her  of 
the  place,  and  the  thoughts  it  called  up  in  him — but  he 
checked  himself.  The  thing  was  to  get  through  with  it 
all  quickly  and  to  be  gone.  They  went  into  the  picture 
gallery  then,  and  began  from  the  end,  and  when  they  came 
to  the  Elizabethan  Denzil  they  paused  for  a  little  while. 
The  painted  likeness  was  extraordinary  to  the  living 
splendid  namesake  who  gazed  up  at  the  old  panel  with 
such  interested  eyes. 

And  Amaryllis  was  thinking : 

"If  only  John  had  that  something  in  him  which  these 
two  have  in  their  eyes,  how  happy  we  could  be." 

And  Denzil  was  thinking: 

"I  hope  the  child  will  reproduce  the  type."  He  felt  it 
would  be  some  kind  of  satisfaction  to  himself  if  she 
should  have  a  son  which  should  be  his  own  image. 

"It  is  so  strange,"  she  remarked,  "that  you  should  be 
exactly  like  this  Denzil,  and  yet  resemble  John  who  does 
not  remind  me  of  him  at  all,  except  in  the  general  family 
look  which  every  one  of  them  share.  This  one  might 
have  been  painted  from  you." 

He  looked  down  at  her  suddenly  and  he  was  unable 
to  control  the  passionate  emotion  in  his  eyes.  He  was 
thinking  that  yes,  certainly,  the  child  must  be  like  him — 
and  then  what  message  would  it  convey  to  her  ? 

Amaryllis  was  disturbed,  she  longed  to  ask  him  what  it 
was  which  she  felt,  and  why  there  seemed  some  illusive 
remembrance  always  haunting  her.  She  grew  confused, 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  155 

and  they  passed  on  to  another  frame  which  contained  the 
Lady  Amaryllis  who  had  had  the  sonnets  written  to  her 
nut  brown  locks.  She  was  a  dainty  creature  in  her  stiff 
farthingale,  but  bore  no  likeness  to  the  present  mistress  of 
Ardayre. 

Denzil  examined  her  for  some  seconds,  and  then  he 
said  reflectively : 

"She  is  a  Sweetheart — but  she  is  not  you !" 

There  was  some  tone  of  tenderness  in  his  voice  when 
he  said  the  word  "Sweetheart"  and  Amaryllis  started  and 
drew  in  her  breath.  It  recalled  something  which  had 
given  her  joy,  a  low  murmur  whispered  in  the  night. 
"Sweetheart !" — a  word  which  John,  alas !  had  never  used 
before  nor  since,  except  in  that  one  letter  in  answer  to  her 
cry  of  exaltation — her  glad  Magnificat.  What  was  this 
echo  sounding  in  her  ears  ?  How  like  Denzil's  voice  was 
to  John's — only  a  little  deeper.  Why,  why  should  he 
have  used  that  word  "Sweetheart"? 

No  coherent  thought  had  yet  come  to  her,  it  was  as 
though  she  had  looked  for  an  instant  upon  some  scene 
which  awakened  a  chord  of  memory,  and  then  that  the 
curtain  had  dropped  before  she  could  define  it. 

She  grew  agitated,  and  Denzil  turning,  saw  that  her 
face  was  pale,  and  her  grey  eyes  vague  and  troubled. 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  it  is  tiring  you,  showing  me 
all  the  house  like  this,  we  won't  look  at  another  picture — 
and  really  I  must  be  getting  on." 

She  did  not  contradict  him. 

"I  am  afraid  that  you  ought  to  go  perhaps,  if  you  want 
to  arrive  by  daylight." 

And  as  they  returned  to  the  green  drawing-room  she 
said  some  nice  things  about  wanting  to  meet  his  mother, 
and  she  tried  to  be  natural  and  at  ease,  but  her  hand  was 


156  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

cold  as  ice  when  he  held  it  in  saying  good-bye  before  the 
fire,  when  Filson  had  announced  the  motor. 

And  if  his  eyes  had  shown  passionate  emotion  in  the 
picture  gallery,  hers  now  filled  with  question  and 
distress. 

"Good-bye;  Denzil " 

"Good-bye,  Amaryllis "  He  could  not  bring  him- 
self to  say  the  usual  conventionalities,  and  went  towards 
the  door  with  nothing  more. 

Her  brain  was  clearing,  terror  and  passion  and  uncer- 
tainty had  come  in  like  a  flood. 

"Denzil ?" 

He  turned  to  her  side  fearfully.  Why  had  she  called 
him  now  ? 

"Denzil ?"  her  face  had  paled  still  further,  and 

there  was  an  anguish  of  pleading  in  it.  "Oh,  please,  what 
does  it  all  mean  ?"  and  she  fell  forward  into  his  arms. 

He  held  her  breathlessly.  Had  she  fainted?  No- 
she  still  stood  on  her  feet,  but  her  little  face  there  lying  on 
his  breast  was  as  a  lily  in  whiteness  and  tears  escaped 
from  her  closed  eyes. 

"For  God's  sake,  Denzil,  have  you  not  something  to  tell 
me?  You  cannot  leave  me  so!" 

He  shivered  with  the  misery  of  things. 

"I  have  nothing  to  tell  you,  child."  His  voice  was 
hoarse.  "You  are  overwrought  and  overstrung.  I  have 
nothing  to  say  to  you  but  just  good-bye." 

She  held  his  coat  and  looked  up  at  him  wildly. 

" Denzil It  was  you — not — John !" 

He  unclasped  her  clinging  arms : 

"I  must  go." 

"You  shall  not  until  you  answer  me — I  have  a  right  to 
know." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  157 

"I  tell  you  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you,"  he  was  stern 
with  the  suffering  of  restraint. 

She  clung  to  him  again. 

"Why  did  you  say  that  word  'Sweetheart'  then?  It 
was  your  own  word.  Oh !  Denzil,  you  cannot  be  so 
frightfully  cruel  as  to  leave  me  in  uncertainty — tell  me  the 
truth  or  I  shall  die !" 

But  he  drew  himself  away  from  her  and  was  silent; 
he  could  not  make  lying  protestations  of  not  understand- 
ing her,  so  there  only  remained  one  course  for  him  to  fol- 
low— he  must  go,  and  the  brutality  of  such  action  made 
him  fierce  with  pain. 

She  burst  into  passionate  sobs  and  would  have  fallen 
to  the  ground.  He  raised  her  in  his  arms  and  laid  her  on 
the  sofa  near,  and  then  fear  seized  him.  What  if  this 
excitement  and  emotion  should  make  her  really  ill ? 

He  knelt  down  beside  her  and  stroked  her  hair.  But 
she  only  sobbed  the  more. 

"How  hideously  cruel  are  men.  Why  can't  you  tell 
me  what  I  ask  you  ?  You  dare  not  even  pretend  that  you 
do  not  understand !" 

He  knew  that  his  silence  was  an  admission,  he  was 
torn  with  distress. 

"Darling,"  he  cried  at  last  in  torment,  "for  God's  sake, 
let  me  go." 

"Denzil — "  and  then  her  tears  stopped  suddenly,  and 
the  great  drops  glistened  on  her  white  cheeks.  Weeping 
had  not  disfigured  her — she  looked  but  as  a  suffering  child. 

"Denzil — if  you  knew  everything,  you  could  not  pos- 
sibly leave  me — you  don't  know  what  has  happened — 
But  you  must,  you  will  have  to  since — soon " 

He  bowed  his  head  and  placed  her  two  hands  over  his 
face  with  a  despairing  movement. 


158  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"Hush — I  implore  you — say  nothing.  I  do  know,  but 
I  love  you — I  must  go." 

At  that  she  gave  a  glad  cry  and  drew  him  close  to  her. 

"You  shall  not  now !  I  do  not  care  for  conventions  any 
more,  or  for  laws,  or  for  anything !  I  am  a  savage — you 
are  mine!  John  must  know  that  you  are  mine!  The 
family  is  all  that  matters  to  him,  I  am  only  an  instrument, 
a  medium  for  its  continuance — but  Denzil,  you  and  I  are 
young  and  loving  and  living.  It  is  you  I  desire,  and  now 
I  know  that  I  belong  to  you.  You  are  the  man  and  I  am 
the  woman — and  the  child  will  be  our  child !" 

Her  spirit  had  arisen  at  last  and  broken  all  chains. 
She  was  transfigured,  transformed,  translated.  No  one 
knowing  the  gentle  Amaryllis  could  have  recognised  her 
in  this  fierce,  primitive  creature  claiming  her  mate ! 

Furious,  answering  passion  surged  through  Denzil;  it 
was  the  supreme  moment  when  all  artificial  restrictions 
of  civilisation  were  swept  away.  Nature  had  come  to 
her  own.  All  her  forces  were  working  for  these  two  of 
her  children  brought  near  by  a  turn  of  fate.  He  strained 
her  in  his  arms  wildly — he  kissed  her  lips,  and  ears,  and 
eyes. 

"Mine,  mine,"  he  cried,  and  then  "Sweetheart!" 

And  for  some  seconds  which  seemed  an  eternity  of  bliss 
they  forgot  all  but  the  joy  of  love. 

But  presently  reality  fell  upon  Denzil  and  he  almost 
groaned. 

"I  must  leave  you,  precious  dear  one — even  so — I  gave 
my  word  of  honour  to  John  that  I  would  never  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  situation.  Fate  has  done  this  thing  by 
bringing  us  together ;  it  has  overwhelmed  us.  I  do  not 
feel  that  we  are  greatly  to  blame,  but  that  does  not  release 
me  from  my  promise.  It  is  all  a  frightful  price  that  we 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  159 

must  pay  for  pride  in  the  Family.  Darling,  help  me  to 
have  courage  to  go." 

"I  will  not —  It  is  shameful  cruelty,"  and  she  clung 
to  him,  "that  we  must  be  parted  now  I  am  yours  really — 
not  John's  at  all.  Everything  in  my  heart  and  being  cries 
out  to  you — you  are  the  reality  of  my  dream  lover,  your 
image  has  been  growing  in  my  vision  for  months.  I  love 
you,  Denzil,  and  it  is  your  right  to  stay  with  me  now  and 
take  care  of  me,  and  it  is  my  right  to  tell  you  of  my 
thoughts  about  the — child —  Ah!  if  you  knew  what  it 
means  to  me,  the  joy,  the  wonder,  the  delight !  I  cannot 
keep  it  all  to  myself  any  longer.  I  am  starving !  I  am 
frozen !  I  want  to  tell  it  all  to  my  Beloved !" 

He  held  her  to  him  again — and  she  poured  forth  the 
tenderest  holy  things,  and  he  listened  enraptured  and  for- 
got time  and  place. 

"Denzil,"  she  whispered  at  last,  from  the  shelter  of  his 
arms.  "I  have  felt  so  strange — exalted,  ever  since — and 
now  I  shall  have  this  ever  present  thought  of  you  and 
love  women  in  my  existence —  But  how  is  it  going  to 
be  in  the  years  which  are  coming?  Can  I  whisper  to  John 
all  my  joy  and  tenderness  as  I  watch  the  growing  up  of  my 
little  one  ?  No  !  the  thing  is  monstrous,  grotesque — I  will 
not  face  the  pain  of  it  all.  John  gave  you  to  me — he  must 
have  done  so — it  was  some  compact  between  you  both  for 
the  family,  and  if  I  did  not  love  you  I  should  hate  you 
now,  and  want  to  kill  myself.  But  I  love  you,  I  love  you, 
I  love  you!"  and  she  fiercely  clasped  her  arms  once  more 
about  his  neck.  "You  must  take  the  consequences  of 
your  action.  I  did  not  ask  to  have  this  complication  in 
my  life.  John  forced  it  upon  me  for  his  own  aims,  but  I 
have  to  be  reckoned  with,  and  I  want  my  lover,  I  claim 


160  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

my  mate."     Her  cheeks  were  flaming  and  her  eyes  flashed. 

"And  your  lover  wants  you,"  and  Denzil  wildly  re- 
turned her  fond  caress,  "but  the  choice  is  not  left  to  me, 
darling,  even  if  you  were  my  wife,  not  John's.  You  have 
forgotten  the  war — I  must  go  out  and  fight." 

All  the  warmth  and  passion  died  out  of  her,  and  she  lay 
back  on  the  pillows  of  the  sofa  for  a  moment  and  closed 
her  eyes.  She  had  indeed  forgotten  that  ghastly  colossus 
in  her  absorption  in  their  own  two  selves. 

Yes — he  must  go  out  and  fight — and  John  would  go  too 
— and  they  might  both  be  killed  like  all  those  gallant  part- 
ners of  the  season  and  her  cousin,  and  those  who  had 
falkn  at  Mons  and  the  battle  of  the  Marne. 

No — she  must  not  be  so  paltry  as  to  think  of  personal 
things,  even  love.  She  must  rise  above  all  selfishness,  and 
not  make  it  harder  for  her  man.  Her  little  face  grew 
resigned  and  sanctified,  and  Denzil  watching  her  with 
burning,  longing  eyes,  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

"It  is  true — for  the  moment  nothing  but  you  and  my 
great  desire  for  you  was  in  my  mind.  But  you  are  right, 
Denzil;  of  course,  I  cannot  keep  you.  Only  I  am  glad 
that  just  this  once  we  have  tasted  a  brief  moment  of  happi- 
ness, and — Denzil,  I  believe  our  souls  belong  to  each  other, 
even  if  we  do  not  meet  again  on  earth." 

And  when  at  last  they  had  parted,  and  Amaryllis,  listen- 
ing, heard  the  motor  go,  she  rose  from  the  sofa  and  went 
out  through  the  window  to  the  lawn,  and  so  to  the  church 
again,  and  there  lay  on  the  steps  of  the  young  knight's 
tomb,  sobbing  and  praying  until  darkness  enveloped  the 
land. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  day  or  two  before  Denzil  sailed  for  France  he  dined 
with  Verisschenzko.  The  intense  preoccupation  of  the 
last  war  preparations  had  left  him  very  little  time  for 
grieving.  He  was  unhappy  when  he  thought  of  Amaryllis, 
but  he  was  a  man.  and  another  primitive  instinct  was  in 
action  in  him — the  zest  of  going  out  to  fight ! 

Verisschenzko  was  depressed,  his  country  was  not  yet 
giving  him  the  opportunity  to  fulfil  his  hopes,  and  he 
fretted  that  he  must  direct  things  from  so  far. 

They  sat  in  a  quiet  corner  of  the  Berkeley  and  talked 
in  a  desultory  fashion  all  through  the  hors  d'ceuvres  and 
the  soup. 

"I  am  sick  of  things,  Denzil,"  Verisschenzko  said  at 
last.  "I  feel  inclined  to  end  it  all  sometimes." 

"And  belie  the  whole  meaning  of  your  whole  beliefs. 
Don't  be  a  fool,  Stepan.  I  always  have  told  you  that 
there  is  one  grain  of  suicide  in  the  composition  of  every 
Russian.  Now  it  has  become  active  with  you.  Have  an- 
other glass  of  champagne,  old  boy,  and  then  you'll  talk 
sense  again.  It  is  sickening  to  be  killed,  or  maimed,  or 
any  beastly  thing  if  it  comes  along  with  duty,  but  to 
court  it  is  madness  pure  and  simple.  It's  just  rot." 

"I'm  with  you,"  and  he  called  the  waiter  and  ordered  a 
fine  champagne,  while  he  smiled,  showing  his  strong, 
square  teeth. 

"They  don't  have  decent  vodka — but  the  brandy  will 
161 


162  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

do  the  trick,"  and  in  an  instant  his  mood  changed  even 
before  the  cognac  had  come. 

"It  is  the  lingering  trace  of  some  other  life  of  folly, 
when  I  talk  like  that— I  know  it,  Denzil.  It  is  the  hark- 
ing back  to  long  months  of  gloom  and  darkness  and  snow 
and  the  howling  of  wolves  and  the  fear  of  the  knout. 
This  is  not  my  first  Russian  life,  you  know !" 

"Probably  not;  but  you've  had  some  more  balanced 
intervening  ones,  or  I  should  have  found  you  dead  with 
veronal,  or  some  other  filthy  thing  before  this,  with  your 
highly  strung  nerves !  I  am  not  really  alarmed  about  you 
though,  Stepan — you  are  fundamentally  sane." 

"I  am  glad  you  think  that — very  few  English  under- 
stand us " 

"Because  you  don't  understand  yourselves.  You  seem 
to  have  every  quality  and  fault  crammed  into  your  skins 
with  no  discrimination  as  to  how  to  sort  them.  You  are 
not  self-conscious  like  we  are  and  afraid  of  looking  like 
fools — so  whatever  is  uppermost  bursts  out.  If  one  of  us 
had  half  your  brains  he  would  never  have  said  an  idiot 
thing  completely  contrary  to  his  whole  natural  bent  like 
that,  just  because  he  felt  down  on  his  luck  for  the 
moment." 

Verisschenzko  laughed  outright. 

"Go  ahead,  Denzil — let  off  steam !     I'm  done  in !" 

"Well,  don't  be  such  a  damned  fool  again !" 

"I  won't — how  is  my  Lady  Amaryllis  ?" 

Denzil  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Because  she  has  written  to  me,  and  I  am  going  down 
to  see  her " 

"Then  vou  know  how  she  is?" 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  163 

"I  guess.  Look  here,  Denzil,  do  try  and  be  frank  with 
me.  You  are  acquainted  with  me  and  know  whether  I 
am  to  be  trusted  or  not.  You  are  aware  that  I  love  her 
with  the  spirit.  You  and  the  worthy  husband  are  off  to 
be  killed,  and  yet  just  because  you  are  so  damned  reserved 
English,  you  can't  bring  yourself  to  do  the  sensible  thing 
and  tell  me  all  about  it  so  that  if  you  go  to  glory  I  could 
look  after  her  rights  and — the  child's — and  take  care  of 
her.  It  is  you  who  are  a  fool  really,  not  I !  Because  I 
get  a  little  drunk  with  my  moods  and  talk  about  suicide, 
that  is  froth,  but  I  should  not  bottle  up  a  confidence  be- 
cause it's  'not  the  thing'  to  talk  about  a  woman — even 
though  it's  for  her  benefit  and  protection  to  do  so.  I've 
more  common  sense.  Some  difficult  questions  might  crop 
up  later  with  Ferdinand  Ardayre,  and  I  want  to  have  the 
real  truth  made  plain  to  myself  so  that  I  can  crush  him. 
If  you've  some  cards  up  your  sleeve  that  I  don't  know  of, 
I  can't  defend  Amaryllis  so  well." 

Denzil  put  down  his  knife  and  fork  for  a  moment;  he 
realised  the  truth  of  what  his  friend  said,  but  it  was  very 
difficult  for  him  to  speak  all  the  same. 

"Tell  me  what  you  know,  Stepan,  and  I'll  see  what 
I  can  do.  It  is  not  because  I  don't  trust  you,  but  it  is 
against  everything  in  me  to  talk." 

"Convention  again,  and  selfishness.  You  are  thinking 
more  about  the  Englishman's  point  of  view  than  the  good 
of  the  woman  you  love — because  I  feel  partly  from  her 
letter  that  you  do  love  her  and  that  she  loves  you — and  I 
surmise  that  the  child  is  yours,  not  John's,  though  how 
this  miracle  has  been  accomplished,  since  it  was  clear  that 
you  had  never  seen  her  until  the  night  at  the  Carlton,  I 
don't  pretend  to  guess !" 


i64  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Denzil  drank  down  his  champagne,  and  then  he  made 
Verisschenzko  understand  in  a  few  words — the  Russian's 
imagination  filled  in  the  details. 

He  lit  a  cigarette  between  the  course  and  puffed  rings  of 
smoke. 

"So  poor'  John  devised  this  plan,  and  yet  he  loves  her 
— he  must  indeed  be  obsessed  by  the  family !" 

"He  is — he  is  a  frightfully  reserved  person  too,  and  I 
am  sure  has  frozen  Amaryllis  from  the  first  day." 

"My  idea  was  always  for  this,  directly  I  went  to  Ar- 
dayre.  I  felt  that  mysterious  pull  of  the  family  there  in 
that  glorious  house.  I  thought  she  would  probably  sim- 
plify things  by  just  taking  you  for  a  lover,  when  you  met, 
as  you  are  her  counterpart — a  perfect  mate  for  her.  I 
had  even  made  up  my  mind  to  suggest  this  to  her,  and 
influence  her  as  much  as  I  could  to  this  end — but  lo !  the 
husband  takes  the  matter  out  of  our  hands  and  devises  a 
really  unique  accomplishment  of  our  wishes.  Gosh !  Den- 
zil !  it's  John  who's  got  the  common  sense  and  the  genius, 
not  we!" 

"Yes,  he  has — so  far,  but  he  did  not  reckon  with  human 
emotion.  He  might  have  known  that  directly  I  should 
see  Amaryllis  I  should  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  he  ought 
to  have  understood  that  that  extraordinary  thing,  nature, 
might  make  her  draw  to  me  afterwards.  Now  the  situa- 
tion is  tragic,  however  you  look  at  it.  John  will  have  the 
hell  of  a  life  if  he  comes  back ;  he  can't  help  feeling  jealous 
every  time  he  sees  the  child,  and  the  tension  between  him 
and  Amaryllis,  now  that  she  knows,  will  be  great. 
Amaryllis  is  wretched — she  is  passionate  and  vivid  as  a 
humming  bird.  Every  hair  of  her  darling  head  is  living 
and  quivering  with  human  power  for  joy  and  union,  and 
she  will  lead  the  famished  life  of  a  nun !  I  absolutely  wor- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  165 

ship  her.  I  am  frantically  in  love,  so  my  outlook,  if  I 
come  back  is  not  gay  either.  I  wonder  if  we  did  well, 
after  all,  John  and  I,  and  if  the  family  makes  all  this 
suffering  worth  while  ?  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better 
to  leave  it  to  fate!"  Denzil  sighed  and  forgot  to  notice 
a  dish  the  waiter  was  handing. 

"It  is  perfectly  certain,"  and  Verisschenzko  grew  con- 
templative, "that  the  result  of  deliberately  turning  the 
current  of  events  like  that  must  have  some  momentous 
consequence.  Mind  you,  I  think  you  were  right.  I 
should  have  advised  it  as  I  have  told  you,  because  of  that 
swine  of  a  Turk,  Ferdinand — but  it  may  have  deranged 
some  plan  of  the  Cosmos,  and  if  so  some  of  you  will  have 
to  pay  for  it.  I  hate  that  it  should  be  my  lady  Amaryllis. 
All  her  sorrow  comes  from  your  dramatically  honourable 
promise.  You  can't  make  love  to  her  now — because  a 
man  who  is  a  gentleman  does  not  break  his  word.  Now 
if  my  plan  had  been  followed,  you  would  not  have  had 
this  limitation  and  you  could  have  had  some  joy — but  who 
knows !  A  false  position  is  a  gall  in  any  case,  and  it 
would  have  soiled  my  star,  which  now  shines  purely.  So 
perhaps  all  is  for  the  best.  But  have  you  analysed,  now 
that  we  are  on  the  subject,  what  it  is  'being  in  love,'  old 
boy?" 

"It  is  divine — and  it  is  hell " 

"All  that!  Amaryllis  is  the  exact  opposite  to  Harietta 
Boleski — in  this,  that  she  attracts  as  strongly  as  Harietta 
could  ever  do  physically,  and  will  be  no  disappointment  in 
soul  in  the  entre  actes.  Being  in  love  is  a  physical  state 
of  exaltation ;  loving  is  the  merging  of  spirit  which  in  its 
white  heat  has  glorified  the  physical  instinct  for  re-creation 
into  a  godlike  beatitude  not  of  earth.  A  man  could  be  in 
love  with  Harietta,  he  could  never  love  her.  A  man  could 


i66  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

always  love  Amaryllis,  so  much  that  he  would  not  be 
aware  that  half  his  joy  was  because  he  was  in  love  with 
her  also." 

"You  know,  Stepan,  men,  women  and  every  one  talk 
a  lot  of  nonsense  about  other  interests  in  life  mattering 
more,  and  there  being  other  kinds  of  really  better  happi- 
ness, but  it  is  pure  rot;  if  one  is  honest  one  owns  that 
there  is  no  real  happiness  but  in  the  satisfaction  of  love. 
Every  other  kind  is  second  best.  It  is  jolly  good  often, 
but  only  a  pis  aller  in  comparison  to  the  real  thing. 

"And  when  people  deny  this,  believing  they  are  speak- 
ing honestly,  it  is  simply  because  the  real  thing  has  not 
come  their  way,  or  they  are  too  brutalised  by  transient  in- 
dulgences to  be  able  to  feel  exaltation. 

"So  here's  to  love!"  and  Denzil  emptied  his  glass. 
"The  supreme  God " 

"Ainsi  soit  il"  and  Stepan  drank  in  response.  "Our 
toast  before  has  always  been  to  the  Ardayre  son,  and  now 
we  drink  to  what  I  hope  has  been  his  creator !" 

They  were  silent  for  some  moments,  and  then  Veris- 
schenzko  went  on: 

"When  the  state  of  being  in  love  is  waning,  affection 
often  remains,  but  then  one  is  at  the  mercy  of  a  new 
emotion.  I'd  be  nervous  if  a  woman  who  had  loved  me 
subsided  into  feeling  affection !" 

"Then  define  loving?" 

"Loving  throbs  with  delight  in  the  flesh;  it  thrills  the 
spirit  with  reverence.  It  glorifies  into  beauty  common- 
place things.  It  draws  nearer  in  sickness  and  sorrow,  and 
is  not  the  sport  of  change.  When  a  woman  loves  truly 
she  has  the  passion  of  the  mistress,  the  selfless  tenderness 
of  the  mother,  the  dignity  and  devotion  of  the  wife.  She 
is  all  fire  and  snow,  all  will  and  frankness,  all  passion  and 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  167 

reserve,  she  is  authoritative  and  obedient — queen  and 
child." 

"And  a  man?" 

"He  ceases  to  be  a  brute  and  becomes  a  god." 

"Stepan — what  am  I  going  to  do  about  Amaryllis?  If 
I  come  back,  it  will  be  hell — a  continual  longing  and  ach- 
ing, and  I  want  to  accomplish  something  in  life;  it  was 
never  my  plan  to  have  the  whole  thing  held  and  bounded 
by  passion  for  a  woman.  A  hopeless  passion  I  can  under- 
stand facing  and  crushing,  but  one  which  you  know  that 
the  woman  returns,  and  that  it  is  only  the  law  and  prom- 
ises you  have  made  which  separate  you,  is  the  most  awful 
torment."  He  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand  for  a  mo- 
ment. His  face  was  stern.  "And  her  life  too — how 
sickening.  You  say  you  are  going  down  to  Ardayre  to  see 
Amaryllis — you  will  tell  me  how  you  find  her.  I  have 
not  written — I  am  trying  not  to  feel." 

"Are  you  interested  about  the  coming  child?  I  am 
never  quite  certain  how  much  it  matters  to  a  man,  whether 
we  deceive  ourselves  and  feel  sentiment  simply  because 
we  love  the  woman,  whether  the  emotion  is  half  vanity,  or 
whether  there  is  something  in  the  actual  state  called 
parenthood?  How  do  you  feel?" 

Denzil  thought  of  his  musings  upon  this  subject  after 
he  had  seen  Amaryllis  at  the  Carlton. 

"It  is  hard  to  describe,"  he  answered  now,  "it  is  all  so 
interwoven  with  love  for  Amaryllis  that  I  cannot  distin- 
guish which  is  which,  or  how  I  feel  about  the  state  in  the 
abstract.  Women  have  these  mysterious  emotions,  I  be- 
lieve, but  I  do  not  think  that  they  come  to  the  average 
man,  but  if  he  loves  it  seems  a  fulfilment." 

"I  have  two  children  scattered  in  Russia,  begotten  be- 
fore I  had  begun  to  think  of  things  and  their  meanings. 


i68  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

I  have  them  finely  educated — I  loathe  them.  I  sicken  at 
the  memory  of  the  mothers ;  I  am  ashamed  when  I  see  in 
them  some  chance  physical  likeness  to  myself.  But  how 
will  you  feel  presently  when  you  see  the  child,  adoring 
the  mother  as  you  do?  What  will  it  say  to  you,  looking 
at  you  with  your  own  eyes,  perhaps  ?  You'll  long  to  have 
some  hand  in  the  training  of  it.  You'll  desire  to  watch 
the  budding  brain  and  the  expanding  soul.  You'll  be 
drawn  closer  and  closer  to  Amaryllis — it  will  all  pull  you 
with  an  invisible  nature  chain " 

"I  know  it, — that  is  the  tragedy  of  the  whole  thing. 
Those  delights  will  be  John's — and  I  hate  to  think  that 
Amaryllis  will  be  alone  for  all  these  months — and  yet  I 
believe  I  would  prefer  that  to  her  being  with  John.  I  am 
jealous  when  I  remember  that  he  has  rights  denied  to  me 
— so  what  must  he  feel,  poor  devil,  when  he  remembers 
about  me  ?" 

"It  is  quite  a  peculiar  situation.  I  wonder  what  the 
years  will  develop  it  into." 

"If  the  child  is  a  girl,  the  whole  thing  is  in  vain." 

"It  won't  be  a  girl — you  will  see  I  am  right.  When  will 
you  and  John  get  leave,  do  you  suppose?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  about  Christmas,  perhaps,  if  we  are 
alive " 

"Do  you  want  to  see  her  again,  then  ?" 

"I  long  always  to  see  her — but  by  Christmas — it  would 
be  nearly  five  months.  I  don't  think  I  could  keep  my 
word  and  not  make  love  to  her — if  I  saw  her — then." 

"You  will  wish  to  hear  about  her ?" 

"Always." 

After  this  they  were  both  silent  while  the  cheese  was 
being  removed.  Verisschenzko  was  thinking  profoundly. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  169 

Here  was  a  study  worthy  of  his  highest  intuitive  faculties. 
What  possible  solution  could  the  future  hold?  Only  one 
— that  of  death  for  either  of  the  men  concerned.  Well, 
death  was  busy  with  England's  best — it  was  no  unlikely 
possibility — and  as  he  looked  at  Denzil  he  felt  a  stab  of 
pain.  Nothing  more  spelndid  and  living  and  strong  could 
be  imagined  than  his  six  foot  one  of  manhood,  crowned 
with  the  health  of  his  twenty-nine  years. 

"I  hope  to  God  he  comes  through,"  he  prayed.  And 
then  he  became  cynical,  as  was  his  habit,  when  he  found 
himself  moved. 

"I  am  on  the  track  of  Harietta,  Denzil.  She  has  a  new 
lover — Ferdinand  Ardayre." 

"What  a  combination !" 

"Yes,  but  who  the  officer  was  at  the  Ardayre  ball  I 
cannot  yet  trace.  Stanislass  is  quite  a  gaga — he  spends 
his  time  packed  off  to  play  piquet  at  the  St.  James' — he 
has  no  bosse  des  cartes, — it  is  his  burdensome  duty." 

"He  does  not  feel  the  war?" 

"He  is  numb." 

"What  will  you  do  if  you  catch  her  red-handed?" 

"I  shall  have  her  shot  without  a  moment's  compunction. 
It  would  be  a  fitting  end." 

"I  don't  know  that  -I  should  have  the  nerve  to  shoot  a 
woman — even  a  spy." 

Verisschenzko  laughed,  and  a  savage  light  grew  in  his 
Calmuck  eyes. 

"My  want  of  civilisation  will  serve  me — if  ever  that 
moment  comes." 

Then  their  talk  turned  to  fighting,  and  women  were  for- 
gotten for  the  time. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Amaryllis  ,came  up  to  London  the  following  week  to  say 
good-bye  to  John,  so  Verisschenzko  did  not  go  down  to 
Ardayre  to  see  her. 

John's  leave-taking  was  characteristic.  He  could  not 
break  through  the  iron  band  of  his  reserve,  he  longed  to 
say  something  loving  to  her,  but  the  more  deeply  he  felt 
things  the  greater  was  his  difficulty  in  self-expression. 
And  the  knowledge  of  the  secret  he  hid  in  his  heart  made 
him  still  more  ill  at  ease  with  Amaryllis.  She  too  was 
changed — he  felt  it  at  once.  Her  grey  eyes  were  mys- 
terious— they  had  grown  from  a  girl's  into  a  woman's. 
She  did  not  mention  the  coming  child  until  he  did — and 
then  it  was  she  who  showed  desire  to  change  the  conversa- 
tion. All  this  pained  John,  while  he  felt  that  he  himself 
was  the  cause — he  knew  that  he  had  frozen  her.  He 
thought  over  his  marriage  from  the  beginning.  He 
thought  of  the  night  when  he  had  sat  on  the  bench  out- 
side her  window  until  dawn,  of  the  agony  he  suffered, 
realising  at  last  that  the  axe  had  indeed  fallen,  and  that 
some  day  she  must  know  the  truth.  And  would  she  re- 
proach him  and  say  that  he  should  have  warned  her  that 
this  possibility  might  occur?  He  remembered  his  talk 
with  Lemon  Bridges.  He  had  been  going  to  give  him  a 
definite  answer  that  morning,  but  John  had  missed  the  ap- 
pointment, so  they  spoke  at  the  ball. 

Would  it  have  been  better  if  he  had  let  himself  go  and 
fondly  kissed  and  oetted  Amaryllis  ?  Or  would  that  have 
170 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  171 

been  misleading  and  still  more  unkind?  It  was  too  late 
now,  in  any  case.  He  must  learn  to  take  the  only  satis- 
faction which  was  left  to  him,  the  knowledge  that  there 
was  the  hope  of  a  true  Ardayre  to  carry  on. 

He  talked  long  to  his  wife  of  his  desires  for  the  child's 
education,  should  it  prove  a  boy,  and  he  should  not  re- 
turn, and  Amaryllis  listened  dutifully. 

Her  mind  was  filled  with  wonder  all  the  time.  She  had 
been  through  much  emotion  since  the  passionate  outburst 
after  Denzil  had  gone,  but  was  quite  calm  now.  She  had 
classified  things  in  her  mind.  She  felt  no  resentment 
against  John.  He  ought  not  to  have  married  her  perhaps, 
but  it  might  be  that  at  the  time  he  did  not  know.  Only 
she  wondered  when  she  looked  at  him  sitting  opposite  her, 
talking  gravely  about  the  baby,  in  the  library  of  Brook 
Street,  how  he  could  possibly  be  feeling.  What  an  im- 
mense influence  the  thought  of  the  family  must  have  in 
his  life.  She  understood  it  in  a  great  measure  herself. 
She  remembered  Verisschenzko's  words  upon  the  occa- 
sions when  he  had  spoken  to  her  about  it,  and  of  her 
duties  towards  it,  and  how  she  must  uphold  it.  She  par- 
ticularly remembered  that  which  he  had  said  when  they 
walked  by  the  lake,  and  he  had  seemed  to  be  transmitting 
some  message  to  her,  which  she  had  not  understood  at 
the  time.  Did  Verisschenzko  know  then  that  John  must 
always  be  heirless  and  had  he  been  suggesting  to  her  that 
the  line  should  go  on  through  her  ?  Some  of  the  pride  in 
it  all  had  come  to  her  before  she  had  left  the  dark  church 
after  parting  with  Denzil.  Perhaps  she  was  fulfilling 
destiny.  She  must  not  be  angry  with  John.  She  did  not 
try  to  cease  from  loving  Denzil.  She  had  not  knowingly 
been  unfaithful  to  John — and  now  she  would  be  faithful 
to  Denzil,  he  was  her  love  and  her  mate.  Indeed,  even  in 


i72  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

the  fortnight  which  elapsed  between  her  farewell  to  him, 
and  now  when  she  was  going  to  say  farewell  to  John, 
she  had  many  months  of  tender  consolation  in  the 
thought  of  the  baby — Denzil's  son.  She  could  revive  and 
revel  in  that  exquisite  exaltation  which  she  had  experi- 
enced at  first  and  which  John  had  withered.  Denzil  far 
surpassed  even  the  imagined  lover  into  which  she  had 
turned  John.  So  now  Denzil  had  become  the  reality,  and 
John  the  dream. 

She  felt  sorry  for  her  husband  too.  She  was  fine 
enough  to  understand  and  divine  his  difficulties. 

She  found  that  she  felt  just  nothing  for  him  but  a 
kindly  affection.  He  might  have  been  Archie  de  la  Paule 
— or  any  of  her  other  cousins.  She  knew  that  her  whole 
being  was  given  to  Denzil — who  represented  her  dream. 

She  tried  to  be  very  kind  to  John,  and  when  he  kissed 
her  before  starting,  the  tears  came  to  her  eyes. 

Poor  good,  cold  John ! 

And  when  he  had  departed — all  the  de  la  Paule  family 
had  been  there  at  Brook  Street  also — Lady  de  la  Paule 
wondered  at  her  niece's  set  face.  But  what  a  mercy  it 
was  the  marriage  was  such  a  success  after  all  and  that 
there  might  be  a  son ! 

So  both  Denzil  and  John  went  to  the  war — and  Amaryl- 
lis was  alone.  Verisschenzko  had  returned  to  Paris  with- 
out seeing  her — and  it  was  the  beginning  of  December  be- 
fore he  was  in  England  again  and  rang  her  up  at  Brook 
Street  where  she  had  returned  for  a  week,  asking  if  he 
might  call. 

"Of  course !"  she  said,  and  so  he  came. 

The  library  was  looking  its  best.  Amaryllis  had  a 
knack  of  arranging  flowers  and  cushions  and  such  things 
•-her  rooms  always  breathed  an  air  of  home,jmd  repose, 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  173 

and  Verisschenzko  was  struck  by  the  sweet  scent  and  the 
warmth  and  cosiness  when  he  came  in  out  of  the  gloomy 
fog. 

She  rose  to  greet  him,  her  face  more  ethereal  still  than 
when  he  had  dined  with  her. 

"You  are  looking  like  an  angel,"  he  said,  when  she  had 
given  him  some  tea  and  they  were  seated  on  the  big  sofa 
before  the  fire.  "What  have  you  to  tell  me?  I  know 
that  you  are  going  to  have  a  child ;  I  am  very  interested 
about  it  all." 

Amaryllis  blushed  a  soft  pink — he  went  on  with  perfect 
calm. 

"You  blush  as  though  I  had  said  something  unheard  of ! 
How  custom  rules  you  still!  For  a  blush  is  caused  by 
feeling  some  sort  of  shame  or  discomfort,  or  agitating  sur- 
prise at  some  discovery.  We  may  get  red  with  anger,  or 
get  pale,  but  that  bright,  sudden  flush  always  has  some 
self-conscious  element  of  shame  in  it.  It  is  just  conven- 
tion which  has  wrapped  the  most  natural  and  divine  thing 
in  life  round  with  discomfort  in  this  way.  You  are  deeply 
to  be  congratulated  that  you  are  going  to  have  a  baby,  do 
you  not  think  so  ?" 

"Of  course  I  do — "  and  Amaryllis  controlled  her  uneasy 
bashfulness.  She  really  wished  to  talk  to  her  friend. 

"Who  told  you  about  it?"  she  asked. 

"Denzil." 

Amaryllis  drew  in  her  breath  suddenly.  Veris- 
schenzko's  eyes  were  looking  her  through  and  through. 

"Denzil ?" 

"Yes, — he  is  glad  that  there  may  be  the  possibility  of  a 
son  for  the  family." 

"How  do  you  feel  about  it?  It  is  an  enormous  re- 
sponsibility to  have  children." 


174  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"I  feel  that — I  want  to  do  the  wisest  things  from  the 
beginning " 

"You  must  take  great  care  of  yourself,  and  always  re- 
main serene.  Never  let  your  mind  become  agitated  by 
speculation  as  to  the  presently,  keep  all  thoughts  fixed 
upon  the  now." 

Amaryllis  looked  at  him  a  little  troubled.  What  did 
he  know  ?  Something  tangible,  or  were  these  views  of  his 
just  applicable  to  any  case?  Her  eyes  were  full  of  ques- 
tion and  pleading. 

"What  do  you  want  to  ask  me?"  His  eyes  narrowed 
in  contemplating  her. 

"I — I — do  not  know." 

"Yes,  you  want  to  hear  of  Denzil — is  it  not  so  ?" 

She  clasped  her  hands. 

"Yes — perhaps " 

"He  is  well — I  heard  from  him  yesterday.  He  asked 
me  to  come  to  you.  His  mother  is  still  at  Bath — he  wishes 
you  to  meet." 

Suddenly  the  impossibleness  of  everything  seemed  to 
come  over  Amaryllis.  She  rose  quickly  and  threw  out 
her  hands : 

"Oh !  if  I  could  only  understand  the  meaning  of  things, 
my  friend  !  I  am  afraid  to  think !" 

"You  love  Denzil  very  much — yes?" 

"Sit  down  and  let  us  talk  about  it,  lady  of  my  soul.  I 
am  your  mother  now." 

She  sank  into  her  seat  beside  him,  among  the  green  silk 
pillows — and  he  leaned  back  and  watched  her  for  a  while. 

"He  fulfils  some  imaginary  picture,  heinf  You  had 
not  seen  him  really  until  we  all  dined  ?" 

"No." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  175 

"You  were  bound  to  be  drawn  to  him — he  is  everything 
a  woman  could  desire — but  it  was  not  only  that — tell  me  ?" 

"He  was  what  I  had  hoped  John  would  be — the  likeness 
is  so  great " 

"It  is  much  deeper  than  that — nature  was  drawing  you 
unconsciously." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  It  seemed  as  if 
Verisschenzko  must  know  the  truth.  Had  Denzil  told 
him,  or  was  it  his  wonderful  intuition  which  was  enlight- 
ening him  now,  or  was  it  just  her  sensitive  conscience? 

"You  see  custom  and  convention  and  false  shames  have 
so  distorted  most  natural  things  that  no  one  has  been 
taught  to  understand  them.  Men  were  intended  in  the 
scheme  of  things  to  love  women  and  to  have  children; 
women  were  meant  to  love  men  and  to  desire  to  be  moth- 
ers. These  instincts  are  primordial,  the  life  of  the  world 
depends  upon  them.  They  have  been  distorted  and  abused 
into  sins  and  vices  and  excesses  and  every  evil  by  civilisa- 
tion, so  that  now  we  rule  them  out  of  every  calculation  in 
judging  of  a  circumstance;  if  we  are  'nice'  people  they  are 
taboo.  Supposing  we  so  suppressed  and  distorted  and 
misused  the  other  two  primitive  instincts,  to  obtain  food 
and  to  kill  one's  enemy,  the  world  would  have  ended  long 
ago.  We  have  done  what  we  could  to  distort  those  also, 
but  nothing  to  the  extent  to  which  we  have  debased  the 
nobility  of  the  recreative  instinct !" 

Amaryllis  listened  attentively,  and  he  went  on : 

"It  is  admitted  that  we  require  food  to  live — and  that 
if  we  are  threatened  with  death  from  an  enemy  we  have 
the  right  to  kill  him  in  self-defence.  But  it  is  never  ad- 
mitted that  it  is  equally  natural  that  we  desire  to  recreate 
our  species.  Under  certain  circumstances  of  vows  and  re- 
strictions, we  are  permitted  to  take  one  partner  for  life — 


i76  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

and — if  this  person  turns  out  to  be  a  fraud  for  the  purpose 
for  which  we  made  the  promise,  we  may  not  have  another. 
Supposing  hungry  savages  were  given  covered  dishes  pur- 
porting to  contain  food,  and  upon  lifting  the  cover  one  of 
them  discovered  his  dish  was  empty — what  would  hap- 
pen ?  He  would  bear  it  as  long  as  he  could,  but  when  he 
was  starving  he  would  certainly  try  to  steal  some  food 
from  his  neighbour — and  might  even  knock  him  on  the 
head  and  obtain  it!  Civilisation  has  controlled  primitive 
instincts,  so  that  a  civilised  man  might  perhaps  prefer  to 
die  himself  from  starvation  rather  than  kill  or  steal.  He 
is  master  of  his  actions,  but  he  is  not  master  of  the  effects 
of  his  abstinence — Nature  wins  these,  and  whatever  would 
be  the  natural  physical  result  of  his  abstinence  occurs. 
Now  you  can  reason  this  thought  out  in  all  its  branches, 
and  you  will  see  where  it  leads  to " 

Amaryllis  mused  for  some  moments — and  she  saw  the 
justice  of  his  reflections. 

"But  for  hundreds  of  years  there  have  been  priests  and 
nuns  and  companies  of  ascetics,"  she  remarked  tentatively. 

"There  have  been  hundreds  of  lunatics  also — and  mad- 
ness is  not  on  the  decrease.  When  you  destroy  nature 
you  always  produce  the  abnormal,  when  life  survives 
from  your  treatment." 

"You  think  that  it  is  natural  that  one  should  have  a 
mate  then?" — she  hesitated. 

"Absolutely." 

"It  is  more  important  than  the  keeping  of  vows  ?" 

"No,  the  spirit  is  degraded  by  the  knowledge  of  broken 
vows — only  one  must  have  intelligence  to  realise  what  the 
price  of  keeping  them  will  be,  and  then  summon  strength 
enough  to  carry  out  whatever  course  is  best  for  the  soul, 
or  best  for  the  ideal  one  is  living  for.  Sometimes  that  end 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  177 

requires  ruthlessness,  and  sometimes  that  end  requires  that 
we  starve  in  one  way  or  another,  so  we  must  be  prepared 
for  sacrifice  perhaps  of  life,  or  what  makes  life  worth 
living,  if  we  are  strong  enough  to  keep  vows  which  we 
have  been  short-sighted  enough  to  make  too  hastily." 

Amaryllis  gazed  in  front  of  her — then  she  asked  softly : 

"Do  you  think  it  is  wicked  of  me  to  be  thinking  of 
Denzil — not  John?" 

"No — it  is  quite  natural — the  wickedness  would  be  if 
you  pretended  to  John  that  you  were  thinking  of  him. 
Deception  is  wickedness." 

"Everything  is  so  sad  now.  Both  have  gone  to  fight. 
I  do  not  dare  to  think  at  all." 

"Yes,  you  must  think — you  must  think  of  your  child 
and  draw  to  it  all  the  good  forces,  so  that  it  may  come  to 
life  unhampered  by  any  weakness  of  balance  in  you.  That 
must  be  your  constant  self -discipline.  Keep  serene  and 
try  to  live  in  a  world  of  noble  ideals  and  serenity.  Now  I 
am  going  to  play  to  you " 

He  played  for  a  whole  hour — and  at  last  softly  and  yet 
more  softly,  and  when  he  finished  he  saw  that  she  was 
quietly  asleep. 

A  smile  as  tender  as  a  mother's  came  into  his  rugged 
face,  and  he  stole  from  the  room  noiselessly,  breathing  a 
blessing  as  he  passed. 

And  somewhere  in  France,  Denzil  and  John  were  think- 
ing of  her  too,  each  with  great  love  in  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  XV 

Harietta  Boleski  was  growing  dissatisfied  with  her  life. 
England  was  of  no  amusement  to  her,  and  yet  Hans  in- 
sisted upon  her  staying  on.  She  wanted  to  go  to  Paris. 
The  war  altogether  was  a  supreme  bore  and  upset  her 
plans ! 

She  had  been  so  successful  in  her  obvious  stupid  way 
that  Hans  had  been  enabled  to  transmit  the  most  useful 
information  to  his  country,  which  had  assisted  to  foil  more 
than  one  Allied  plan.  Harietta  saw  numbers  of  old  gen- 
tlemen who  pulled  strings  in  that  time,  and  although  they 
wearied  her,  she  found  them  easier  to  extract  news  from 
than  the  younger  men.  Her  method  was  so  irresistible :  a 
direct  appeal  to  the  senses,  and  it  hardly  ever  failed.  If 
only  Hans  would  consent  to  her  returning  to  Paris,  with 
the  help  of  Ferdinand  Ardayre,  who  was  now  her  slave, 
she  promised  wonderful  things. 

Hans,  as  a  Swedish  philanthropic  gentleman,  had  been 
over  to  give  her  instructions  once  or  twice,  and  at  last  had 
agreed  to  her  crossing  the  Channel. 

She  told  this  good  news  to  Ferdinand  one  afternoon  just 
before  Christmas,  when  he  came  in  to  see  her  in  London. 

"I'm  going  to  Paris,  Ferdie,  and  you  must  come  too. 
There's  no  use  in  your  pretending  that  England  matters 
to  you,  and  you  are  of  such  use  to  us  with  your  branch 
business  in  Holland  like  that.  If  I'd  thought  in  the  begin- 
ning that  there  was  a  chance  to  knock  out  Germany,  I 
would  have  been  right  on  this  side,  because  there's  no  two 
178 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 


179 


ways  about  it,  England's  the  place  to  have  a  good  time  in, 
but  I've  information  which  makes  it  certain  that  we  shall 
take  Calais  in  the  Spring,  and  so  I  guess  it's  safer  to 
cling  to  Kaiser  Bill — and  get  it  all  done  soon,  then  we 
can  enjoy  ourselves  again.  I  do  pine  for  a  tango !  My ! 
I'm  just  through  with  this  dull  time !" 

Ferdinand  was  a  rest  to  her,  almost  as  good  as  Hans. 
She  had  not  to  be  over-refined — she  knew  that  he  was  on 
the  same  level  as  herself.  He  amused  her  too  in  several 
ways. 

He  looked  sulky  now.  It  did  not  suit  his  plans  to  go 
to  Paris  yet.  He  was  trying  to  collect  information  for  a 
game  of  his  own.  But  where  Harietta  went  he  must  go, 
he  was  besotted  about  her,  and  knew  that  he  could  not 
trust  her  a  yard. 

He  protested  a  little  that  they  were  very  well  where  they 
were,  but  as  she  never  allowed  any  one's  wishes  to  inter- 
fere with  her  plans  she  only  smiled. 

"I'm  going  on  Saturday.  We  have  secured  a  suite  at 
the  Universal  this  time,  now  that  the  Rhin  is  shut  up,  and 
it  is  such  a  large  hotel,  you  can  quite  well  stay  there ; 
Stanislass  won't  notice  you  among  the  crowd." 

Ferdinand  agreed  unwillingly — and  just  then  Veris- 
schenzko  came  in.  He  had  not  seen  Madame  Boleski 
since  the  night  at  the  Carlton,  having  taken  care  not  to  let 
her  know  of  his  further  visits  to  England  since. 

He  looked  at  Ferdinand  Ardayre  as  though  he  had 
been  some  bit  of  furniture,  and  he  took  up  Fou-Chow 
who  was  cowering  beneath  a  chair.  He  did  not  speak  a 
word. 

Harietta  talked  for  every  one  for  a  little  while,  and  then 
she  began  to  feel  nervous. 

Verisschenzko  smiled  lazily — he  was  trying  an  experi- 


i8o  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

ment.  The  interview  could  not  go  on  like  this;  Ferdi- 
nand Ardayre  would  certainly  have  to  go. 

Now  that  Verisschenzko  had  come,  Harietta  ardently 
wished  that  he  would. 

The  most  venomous  hate  was  arising  in  Ferdinand's 
resentful  soul.  He  felt  that  here  was  a  rival  to  be  dreaded 
indeed.  He  saw  that  Harietta  was  nervous ;  he  had  never 
seen  her  so  before.  He  shut  his  teeth  and  determined  to 
stay  on. 

Verisschenzko  continued  his  disconcerting  silence. 
Harietta  felt  that  she  should  presently  scream!  She 
took  Fou-Chow  from  Stepan  and  pinched  him  cruelly  in 
her  exasperation.  He  gave  a  feeble  squeak  and  she 
pushed  him  roughly  down.  Animals  to  her  were  a  nui- 
sance. She  disliked  them  if  she  had  any  feeling  at  all. 
But  Fou-Chow  was  an  adjunct  to  her  toilet  sometimes, 
and  was  a  coveted  possession,  envied  by  her  many  female 
friends.  His  tiny,  cringing  body  irritated  her  though  ex- 
tremely when  she  was  not  using  him  for  effect,  and  he 
was  often  kicked  and  cuffed  out  of  her  way. 

He  showed  evident  fear  of  her  and  ran  from  her  always, 
so  that  when  she  wanted  to  make  a  picture  with  him,  she 
was  obliged  to  carry  him  in  her  arms. 

Verisschenzko  raised  one  bushy  eyebrow,  and  a  sardonic 
smile  came  into  his  eyes. 

Madame  Boleski  saw  that  she  had  made  a  mistake  in 
showing  her  temper  to  the  dog;  it  would  have  given  her 
pleasure  then  to  wring  its  neck ! 

The  two  men  sat  on.  She  began  to  grow  so  uncom- 
fortable that  she  could  endure  it  no  more. 

"You  are  coming  back  to  dinner,  Mr.  Ardayre,"  she 
remarked  at  length,  "and  I  wnnt  you  to  get  me  gar- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  181 

clenias  to  wear,  if  you  will  be  so  kind,  and  I  am  afraid 
you  will  have  to  hurry  as  the  shops  close  soon." 

Ferdinand  Ardayre  rose,  rage  showing  in  his  mean  face, 
but  as  he  had  no  choice  he  said  good-bye.  Harietta  ac- 
companied him  to  the  door,  pressing  his  hand  stealthily, 
then  she  returned  to  the  Russian  with  flaming  eyes.  He 
had  not  uttered  a  word. 

"How  dare  you  make  me  so  nervous,  sitting  there  like 
a  log!  I  won't  stand  for  such  treatment — you  Bear!" 

"Then  sit  down.  Why  do  you  have  that  Turk  with 
you  at  all?" 

"He  is  not  a  Turk;  he's  an  Englishman  and  a  friend 
of  mine.  Why,  he  is  the  brother  of  your  precious  John 
Ardayre — and  they  have  behaved  shamefully  to  him,  poor 
dear  boy." 

She  was  still  enraged. 

"He  is  not  even  a  pure  Turk — some  of  them  are  gentle- 
men. He  is  just  the  scum  of  the  earth,  and  no  blood  re- 
lation to  John  Ardayre." 

"He  will  let  them  know  whether  he  is  or  not  some  day ! 
I  hear  that  your  bit  of  bread  and  butter  is  going  to  have  a 
child,  and  as  Ferdie  says  it  can't  be  John's,  I  suppose  it  is 
yours !" 

Verisschenzko's  face  looked  dangerous. 

"You  would  do  well  to  guard  your  words,  Harietta.  I 
do  not  permit  you  to  make  such  remarks  to  me — and  it 
would  be  more  prudent  if  you  warned  your  friend  that  he 
had  better  not  make  such  assertions  either — do  you  under- 
stand ?" 

Harietta  felt  some  twinge  of  fear  at  the  strange  tone  in 
the  Russian's  voice,  but  she  was  too  out  of  temper  to  be 
cowed  now. 


182  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"Puh!"  and  she  tossed  her  head.  "If  the  child  is  a 
boy  Ferdie  will  have  something  to  say — and  as  for  Amaryl- 
lis— I  hate  her !  I'd  like  to  kill  her  with  my  own  hands." 

Verisschenzko  rose  and  stood  before  her — and  there 
was  a  look  in  his  eyes  which  made  her  suddenly  grow 
cold. 

"Listen,"  he  said  icily.  "I  have  warned  you  once  and 
you  know  me  well  enough  to  decide  whether  I  ever  speak 
lightly.  I  warn  you  again  to  be  careful  of  your  words 
and  your  deeds.  I  shall  warn  you  no  more — if  you  trans- 
gress a  third  time — then  I  will  strike." 

Harietta  grew  pale  to  her  painted  lips. 

How  would  he  strike?  Not  with  a  stick  as  Hans 
would  have  done,  but  in  some  much  more  deadly  way. 
She  changed  her  manner  instantly  and  began  to  laugh. 

"Darling  Brute !" 

Verisschenzko  knew  that  he  had  alarmed  her  sufficiently, 
so  he  sat  down  in  his  chair  again  and  lit  a  cigarette  calmly 
— then  he  sniffed  the  air. 

"Your  mongrel  friend  uses  the  same  perfume  as  Stanis- 
lass'  mistress !" 

"Stanislass'  mistress?"  she  had  forgotten  for  the  mo- 
ment. 

"Yes — don't  you  remember  we  burnt  his  scented  hand- 
kerchief the  last  time  we  met,  because  we  did  not  like  her 
taste  in  perfumes  ?" 

Harietta's  ill  humour  rose  again ;  she  was  annoyed  that 
she  had  forgotten  this  incident.  Her  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  usually  preserved  her  from  committing  any 
such  mistakes.  She  felt  that  it  was  now  advisable  to  be- 
come cajoling;  also  there  was  something  in  the  face  of 
Verisschenzko  and  his  fierceness  which  aroused  renewed 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  183 

passion  in  her — it  was  absurd  to  waste  time  in  quarrelling 
with  him  when  in  an  hour  Stanislass  might  be  coming  in, 
so  she  went  over  behind  his  chair  and  smoothed  back  his 
thick  dark  hair. 

"You  know  that  I  adore  you,  darling  Brute !" 

"Of  course — "  he  did  not  even  turn  his  head  towards 
her.  "Have  you  had  your  heart's  desire  here  in 
England  ?" 

"Before  this  stupid  war  came — yes — now  I'm  through 
with  it.  I'm  for  Paris  again." 

"I  suppose  I  must  have  been  mistaken,  but  I  thought 
I  caught  sight  of  your  handsome  German  friend  in  the 
hall  just  now?" 

"German  friend — who?" 

"Your  danseur  at  the  Ardayre  ball.  I  have  forgotten 
his  name." 

"And  so  have  I." 

At  that  instant  Marie  appeared  at  the  door  and  Fou- 
Chow  came  from  under  the  chair  where  he  was  sheltering 
and  pattered  towards  her  with  a  glad  tiny  whine.  The 
maid's  eyes  rounded  with  dislike  as  she  looked  at  her  mis- 
tress ;  she  realised  that  the  little  creature  had  been  roughly 
treated  again.  She  picked  him  up  and  could  hardly  con- 
trol her  voice  into  a  tone  of  respectfulness  as  she  spoke: 

"Monsieur  Insborg  demands  if  he  can  see  Madame  in 
half  an  hour.  He  telephoned  to  Madame  but  received  no 
reply." 

For  a  second  Harietta's  eyes  betrayed  her;  they  nar- 
rowed with  alarm,  and  then  she  said  suavely :  "I  suppose 
the  receiver  was  off.  No,  say  I  am  dining  early  for  the 
theatre — but  to-morrow  at  five." 

The  maid  inclined  her  head  and  left  the  room  silently, 


i84  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

carrying  Fou-Chow,  but  as  she  did  so  her  eyes  met  Veris- 
schenzko's  and  their  expression  suggested  to  him  several 
things : 

"Marie  loves  the  dog — so  she  hates  Harietta.  Good — 
we  shall  see." 

Thus  his  thoughts  ran,  but  aloud  he  asked  what  Harietta 
meant  to  do  with  her  life  in  Paris,  and  who  had  been  her 
lovers  here? 

"You  do  say  such  frightful  things  to  me,  Stepan,"  and 
she  tossed  her  head.  "You  think  that  because  I  took  you, 
I  take  others !  Pah ! — and  if  I  do — these  Englishmen  are 
peaches,  just  like  little  school  boys — they'd  not  harm  a 
fly.  But  I  only  love  you,  Darling  Brute — even  though 
we  have  had  a  row." 

"I  know  that,  of  course.  -I  am  not  jealous,  only  you 
have  not  given  me  any  proofs  lately,  so  I  am  going  to  re- 
tire from  the  field.  I  came  to  say  good-bye." 

He  looked  adorably  attractive,  Harietta  thought — he 
made  her  blood  run.  Ferdinand  Ardayre  was  but  an  in- 
structed weakling,  when  one  had  come  through  his  in- 
tricacies there  was  nothing  in  him.  As  a  lover  he  was  not 
worth  the  Russian's  little  finger,  and  the  more  Veris- 
schenzko  eluded  her,  the  higher  her  passion  for  him  grew ; 
and  here  he  was  after  months  of  absence  and  suggesting 
that  he  would  leave  her  for  ever!  This  was  not  to  be 
borne ! 

The  enraging  part  was  that  she  would  not  dare  to  try 
to  keep  him  with  Hans  again  upon  the  scene.  She  hated 
Hans  once  more  as  she  had  hated  him  at  the  Ardayre  ball ! 

Verisschenzko  did  not  attempt  to  caress  her ;  he  sat  per- 
fectly still,  nor  did  he  speak. 

Harietta  could  not  think  how  to  cope  with  this  new 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  185 

mood;  her  weariness  with  the  gloom  of  England  and  the 
absence  of  amusement  seemed  to  render  Stepan  more  than 
ever  desirable.  He  represented  the  wild,  the  strong,  the 
primitive,  the  only  thing  she  felt  that  she  desired  at  that 
moment — and  if  she  let  him  go  to-day  he  was  capable  of 
never  coming  back  to  her  again.  It  was  worth  using  any 
means  to  keep  him  on.  She  knew  that  she  could  obtain 
some  show  of  love  from  him  if  she  bribed  him  with  bits 
of  news.  It  would  serve  Hans  right  too  for  daring  to 
turn  up  so  inconveniently ! 

So  she  came  from  behind  his  chair  and  sat  down  on 
Verisschenzko's  knee  and  commenced  to  whisper  in  his 
ear. 

"Now  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  you  love  me  again," 
he  announced  presently, — "and  of  course  I  must  always 
pay  for  love!" 

They  were  seated  by  the  fire  in  two  armchairs  when 
Stanislass  came  in  from  the  Club  before  dinner  at  eight. 
Harietta  had  not  even  remembered  that  she  must  dress,  so 
intoxicated  with  re-awakened  passion  for  Verisschenzko 
had  she  become.  A  man  for  her  must  be  in  the  room; 
her  affection  could  not  keep  alight  in  absence.  She  had 
revelled  in  the  joy  of  finding  again  a  complete  physical 
master.  She  loved  him  as  a  tigress  may  love  her  tamer, 
the  man  with  the  whip;  and  the  knowledge  that  she  was 
deceiving  Hans  and  her  husband  and  Ferdinand  added  a 
fillip  to  her  satisfaction.  But  how  was  she  going  to  be 
sure  to  see  Stepan  again — that  was  the  question  which  still 
agitated  her.  Verisschenzko  wished  to  further  examine 
Ferdinand  Ardayre,  and  so  decided  to  make  every  one  un- 
comfortable once  more  by  staying  on.  Stanislass,  very 


i86  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

nervous  with  him  now,  talked  fast  and  foolishly.  Harietta 
fidgeted,  and  in  a  moment  or  two  Ferdinand  Ardayre  was 
announced. 

He  reddened  with  annoyance  to  see  the  Russian  had 
not  gone;  the  flowers  which  he  had  brought  were  in  a 
parcel  in  his  hand. 

Harietta  took  them  disdainfully  without  a  word  of 
thanks.  What  a  nuisance  the  creature  was  after  all! — 
and  Stanislass  was — and  everything  and  anything  was 
which  kept  her  from  being  alone  with  Verisschenzko ! 

"When  are  you  coming  to  see  me  again,  Stepan?"  she 
asked,  determined  not  to  let  him  part  without  some  defi- 
nite future  meeting  settled. 

"I  will  come  back  and  take  coffee  with  you  to-night," 
he  answered  unexpectedly. 

Harietta  was  enchanted,  she  had  not  hoped  for  this. 

"No  one  bothers  so  much  about  dressing  now,  stay  and 
dine  as  you  are." 

"Yes,  do,"  chimed  in  Stanislass  timidly  in  Russian,  "we 
should  be  so  charmed." 

"Very  well — I  will  dine — but  I  must  change.  I  shall 
not  be  long  though.  Begin  dinner  without  me,  I  will  join 
you  before  the  fish."  And  with  no  further  waste  of 
words  he  left  them. 

Harietta  pushed  Stanislass  gently  from  the  room  with 
an  injunction  to  be  quick — and  then  she  returned  and  held 
out  her  arms  to  Ferdinand  Ardayre. 

"Now  you  must  not  be  jealous,  Ferdie  pet,  about  Veris- 
schenzko," and  she  patted  him.  "It  is  business — I  must 
talk  to  him  to-night;  he  has  an  idea  that  you  and  I  are 
not  favourable  to  the  Allies,"  and  she  laughed  delightedly, 
"and  I  must  get  him  off  this  notion !" 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  187 

Ferdinand  Ardayre  looked  sullen ;  he  was  burning  with 
jealousy. 

"Will  you  make  it  up  to  me  afterwards  ?" 

"But,  of  course,  fa  the  usual  way !"  and  with  one  of  her 
wonderful  kisses  Harietta  went  laughing  from  the  room. 

Left  alone,  the  young  man  gave  himself  a  morphine 
piqure,  and  then  sat  down  and  held  his  head  in  his  hands. 

He  had  heard,  as  he  had  told  Harietta  earlier  in  the 
afternoon,  that  his  brother's  wife  was  going  to  have  a 
child,  and  he  could  find  no  way  of  proving  legally  that  it 
could  not  be  John's,  so  his  venom  had  grown  with  his 
impotence. 

His  mother  had  said  to  him  once : 

"The  accursed  English  will  always  beat  us,  my  son. 
Thy  real  father  would  have  put  poison  in  their  coffee. 
We  can  only  hope  for  revenge  some  day.  I  fear  we  shall 
never  gain  our  desires.  The  old  fool  whom  thou  callest 
father  must  be  sucked  dry  of  everything  while  he  lives, 
because  no  quarter  will  be  given  us  once  the  breath  is  out 
of  his  body." 

Was  this  true?  Must  the  English  always  beat  him? 
He  remembered  his  hatred  of  Denzil  while  at  Eton,  and 
the  dog's  life  he  had  often  led  there.  Well,  he  would  hit 
back  with  an  adder's  sting  when  the  chance  came  to  him. 
He  would  like  to  see  both  Ardayres  ruined  and  England 
herself  in  the  dust,  numbed  and  conquered.  All  his  Eng- 
lish life  and  education  had  never  made  him  anything  but 
an  alien  in  thought  and  appearance. 

It  was  his  powerlessness  which  enraged  him,  but  surely 
the  day  must  come  when  he  could  make  some  of  them 
suffer. 

Harietta  had  not  appeared  in  the  hall  when  Veris- 


r88  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

schenzko  returned  dressed,  and  she  even  kept  all  three 
men  waiting  for  about  ten  minutes,  and  then  swept  in  re- 
splendent in  yellow  brocade  and  the  gardenias,  when  the 
clock  had  struck  nine  and  most  of  the  other  diners  were 
having  their  coffee. 

"It  don't  amount  to  a  row  of  pins  to  the  people  who 
want  to  enjoy  themselves,  as  I  do,  if  their  country  is 
beaten  or  not ;  it'll  all  be  the  same  six  months  after  peace  is 
declared,  so  I'm  all  for  knocking  whichever  seems  feeblest 
out  quickly,"  she  had  said  to  Ferdinand,  "and  Paris  will 
always  be  top  of  the  world  for  clothes  and  things  that  one 
wants,  so  what  do  old  politics  matter?" 

She  derived  some  pleasure  out  of  the  sensation  she 
created  when  she  went  into  a  restaurant,  and  she  really 
looked  extraordinarily  handsome. 

The  dinner  amused  her,  too;  it  was  entertaining  to 
make  Ferdinand  jealous.  The  emotions  of  Stanislass  had 
ceased  to  count  to  her  in  any  way  whatsoever. 

Verisschenzko  had  discovered  what  he  required  in  re- 
gard to  Ferdinand  Ardayre  before  they  went  into  the  hall 
for  coffee — there  was  nothing  further  to  be  gained  by 
having  another  tete-a-tete  with  Harietta,  so  he  sat  down 
by  Stanislass  and  suggested  that  the  other  two  should  go 
on  to  the  Coliseum  without  them,  and  Harietta  was  obliged 
to  depart  reluctantly  with  Ferdinand,  having  arranged  that 
Stepan  should  let  her  know,  directly  he  arrived  in  Paris, 
whither  he  was  going  in  a  day  or  two  also. 

When  she  had  left  them  Stanislass  Boleski  turned 
melancholy  eyes  to  his  old  friend,  but  remained  silent. 

"Has  it  been  worth  it?"  Verisschenzko  asked,  with  cer- 
tain feeling — they  had  relapsed  into  Russian. 

Stanislass  sighed  deeply. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  189 

"No — far  from  it — I  am  broken  and  finished,  Stepan, 
she  has  devoured  my  soul " 

"Why  don't  you  kill  her !     I  should." 

The  Pole  clenched  one  of  his  transparent  looking  hands : 

"I  cannot — I  desire  her  so — she  is  an  obsession.  I  can- 
not work — she  leaves  me  neither  time  nor  brain.  But  I 
want  her  always,  she  is  a  burning  torment,  and  a  blast,  and 
a  sin.  I  see  visions  of  the  chance  that  I  have  missed,  and 
then  all  is  obliterated  by  her  voluptuous  kisses.  I  die 
each  day  with  jealousy  and  shame.  She  withholds  herself, 
and  I  would  pay  with  the  blood  from  my  veins  to  possess 
her  again !" 

"You  have  no  longer  any  delusions  about  her — you  see 
her  as  a  curse  and  a  vampire?" 

Stanislass  reddened. 

"•I  see  everything,  but  I  know  only  desire.  Stepan,  she 
has  dragged  me  through  every  degradation.  I  am  a  wit- 
ness of  her  unfaithfulness.  She  gives  herself  to  this 
Turk  with  hardly  a  pretence  of  concealment — I  know  it — 
I  burn  with  rage,  and  I  can  do  nothing.  She  returns  to 
my  arms  and  I  forget  everything.  I  am  a  most  unhappy 
man  and  only  death  can  release  me,  and  yet  I  wish  to  live 
because  I  love  her.  Each  day  is  fierce  longing  for  her — 
each  night  away  from  her  hell — "  Tears  sprang  to  his 
hopeless  black  eyes  and  his  voice  broke  with  emotion. 

Verisschenzko  looked  at  him  and  a  rough  pity  tempered 
his  contempt. 

Here  was  a  case  where  an  indulgence  having  become 
master  was  exacting  a  hideous  toll.  But  the  net  was  draw- 
ing closer  and  when  all  the  strands  were  in  his  hands  he 
would  act  without  mercy. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

When  Amaryllis  knew  that  John  was  going  to  get  a 
few  days'  leave  at  Christmas  a  strange  nervousness  took 
possession  of  her.  The  personality  of  Denzil  had  been 
growing  more  real  to  her  ever  since  they  had  parted,  in 
spite  of  her  endeavours  to  discipline  her  mind  and  control 
all  emotion.  The  thought  of  him  and  the  thought  of  the 
baby  were  inseparable  and  were  seldom  absent  from  her 
consciousness.  All  sorts  of  wonderful  emotions  held  her, 
and  exalted  her  imagination  until  she  felt  that  Denzil  was 
part  of  her  daily  life — and  with  the  double  interest  her 
love  for  him  grew  and  grew. 

She  had  only  seen  John  during  the  day  when  he  had 
come  to  bid  her  good-bye  before  leaving  for  the  Front, 
and  most  of  the  time  they  had  been  surrounded  by  the  de 
la  Paule  family.  But  now  she  would  have  to  face  the  fact 
of  living  with  him  again  in  an  intimate  relationship. 

The  thought  appeared  awful  to  her.  There  was  some- 
thing in  her  nature  which  resembled  that  of  the  bride  of 
King  Caudaules.  She  could  not  support  the  idea  of  be- 
longing now  to  John;  it  seemed  to  her  that  he  must  have 
no  rights  at  all.  She  had  written  to  him  dutifully  each 
week  letters  about  the  place  and  her  Committees  in  the 
County.  She  had  not  once  mentioned  the  coming  child. 

Denzil's  mother  had  been  ill  and  the  visit  to  Bath  had 
been  postponed,  and  after  a  fortnight  alone  at  Ardayre  she 
had  come  up  to  London.  She  had  too  much  time  to  think 

there. 

190 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  191 

Stepan  had  left  her  a  list  of  books  to  get  and  she  had 
been  steadily  reading  them. 

How  horribly  ignorant  she  had  been !  She  realised  that 
what  knowledge  she  had  possessed  had  never  been  cen- 
tralised or  brought  to  any  use.  She  had  known  isolated 
histories  of  Europe,  and  never  had  studied  them  collec- 
tively or  contemporarily  to  discover  their  effect  upon  hu- 
man evolution.  She  had  learned  many  things,  and  then 
never  employed  her  critical  faculties  about  them.  A 
whole  new  world  seemed  to  be  opening  to  her  view.  She 
had  determined  not  to  be  unhappy  and  not  to  look  ahead, 
but  in  spite  of  these  good  resolutions  she  would  often 
dream  in  the  firelight  of  the  joy  of  being  clasped  in  Den- 
zil's  arms. 

When  she  thought  of  John  it  was  with  tolerance  more 
than  affection.  What  did  he  really  mean  to  her,  denuded 
of  the  glamour  with  which  she  herself  had  surrounded 
him? 

Practically  nothing  at  all. 

She  was  quite  aware  that  her  state  of  being  was  render- 
ing all  her  mental  and  emotional  faculties  particularly 
sensitive,  and  she  did  her  utmost  to  remember  all  Veris- 
schenzko's  counsel  to  discipline  herself  and  remain  serene. 
The  morning  John  was  expected  to  arrive  she  had  a  hard 
fight  with  herself.  She  felt  very  nervous  and  ill  at  ease. 
Above  all  things,  she  must  not  be  unkind. 

He  was  bronzed  and  looked  well,  he  was  more  expan- 
sive also  and  plainly  very  glad  to  see  her. 

He  held  her  close  to  him  and  bent  to  kiss  her  lips ;  but 
some  undefined  reluctance  came  over  her,  and  she  moved 
her  head  aside. 

Something  in  her  resented  the  caress.  Her  lips  were 
now  for  Denzil  and  for  no  other  man.  It  was  she  who 


192  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

was  recalcitrant  and  turned  the  conversation  into  every- 
day things. 

The  de  la  Paule  family  had  been  summoned  for 
luncheon  and  the  afternoon  passed  among  them  all,  and 
then  the  evening  and  the  tete-a-tete  dinner  came. 

John  knocked  at  the  door  of  her  room  while  she  was 
dressing.  Her  maid  had  just  finished  her  hair  and  she 
wondered  at  herself  that  she  should  experience  a  sense  of 
shyness  and  have  to  suppress  an  inclination  to  refuse  to 
let  him  come  in.  And  once  any  of  these  little  intimate 
happenings  would  have  given  her  joy! 

She  kept  Adams  there,  and  hurried  into  her  tea-gown 
and  then  walked  towards  the  door. 

John  had  not  spoken  much,  but  stood  by  the  fire. 

How  changed  things  were!  Once  he  had  to  be  per- 
suaded and  enticed  to  stay  with  her  at  such  moments,  and 
it  was  he  who  now  seemed  to  desire  to  do  so,  and  it  was 
she  who  discouraged  his  wishes ! 

In  Amaryllis'  mind  an  agitation  grew.  What  could 
she  say  to  him  presently — if  he  suggested  coming  to  sleep 
in  her  room  ? 

The  knowledge  in  her  breast  rose  as  an  insurmountable 
barrier  between  them. 

During  dinner  she  kept  the  conversation  entirely  upon 
his  life  at  the  Front — which  indeed  really  interested  her. 
She  was  not  cold  or  stiff  in  her  manner,  but  she  was  un- 
consciously aloof. 

Then  they  went  back  into  the  library,  each  feeling  ex- 
ceedingly depressed. 

When  coffee  had  come  and  they  were  quite  alone 
Amaryllis  felt  she  could  not  stand  the  strain,  and  went  to 
the  piano.  She  played  for  quite  a  long  time  all  the  things 
she  remembered  that  John  liked  best.  She  wanted  the 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  193 

music  to  calm  her,  and  she  wanted  to  gain  time.  John 
sat  in  one  of  the  monster  chairs  and  gazed  into  the  fire. 
He  seemed  to  see  pictures  in  the  glowing  coals. 

The  strange  relentless  fate  which  had  pursued  him  al- 
ways as  far  as  happiness  was  concerned ! 

He  remembered  what  his  mother  had  said  to  him  when 
she  lay  a-dying  with  a  broken  heart. 

"John,  we  cannot  see  what  God  means  in  it  all.  There 
must  be  some  explanation  because  He  cannot  be  unjust. 
It  is  because  we  have  missed  the  point  of  some  lesson, 
probably,  and  so  are  given  it  again  to  learn.  Do  not  ever 
be  rebellious,  my  son,  and  perhaps  some  day  light  will 
come." 

He  had  read  an  article  in  some  paper  lately  ridiculing 
the  theory  that  we  have  had  former  lives,  but,  after  all, 
perhaps  there  was  some  foundation  for  the  belief.  Per- 
haps he  was  paying  in  this  one  for  sins  in  a  previous 
birth.  That  would  account  for  the  seeming  inexorable- 
ness  of  the  misfortunes  which  fell  upon  him  now,  since 
common  sense  told  him  that  in  this  life  such  cruel  blows 
were  undeserved. 

Amaryllis  glanced  at  his  face  from  the  piano  as  she 
played.  It  was  infinitely  sad. 

A  great  pity  grew  in  her  heart.  What  ought  she  to  do 
not  to  be  unkind? 

Presently  she  finished  a  soft  chord  and  got  up  and  came 
to  his  side. 

They  were  both  suffering  cruelly — but  John  was  going 
back  to  fight.  She  must  have  some  explanation  with  him 
which  could  make  him  return  to  France  at  peace  in  a 
measure.  It  was  cowardly  to  shirk  telling  him  the  truth, 
and  she  could  not  let  him  go  again  into  danger  with  this 
black  shadow  between  them. 


194  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

He  looked  up  at  her  and  rose  from  his  chair. 

"You  play  so  beautifully,"  he  said  hastily.  "You  take 
one  out  of  oneself.  Now  it  is  late  and  the  day  has  been 
long.  Let  us  go  to  bed,  dearest  child." 

Amaryllis,  stiffened  suddenly — the  moment  that  she 
dreaded  had  come. 

"I  would  rather  that  you  slept  in  your  dressing-room. 
I  have  ordered  that  to  be  prepared " 

He  looked  at  her  startled — and  then  he  took  her  hand. 

"Amaryllis — tell  me  everything.  Why  are  you  so 
changed  ?" 

"I'm  trying  not  to  be,  John." 

"You  are  trying — that  proves  that  you  are,  if  you  must 
try.  Please  tell  me  what  this  means." 

She  endeavoured  to  remain  calm  and  not  become 
unhinged. 

"It  was  you  yourself  who  altered  me.  I  came  to  you 
all  loving  and  human  and  you  froze  me.  There  is  noth- 
ing to  be  done." 

"Yes,  there  is.    You  know  that  I  love  you." 

"Perhaps  you  do,  but  the  family  matters  more  to  you 
than  I  do,  or  anything  else  in  the  world." 

"That  may  have  been  so  once,  but  not  now,"  his  voice 
throbbed  with  feeling. 

"Alas !"  was  all  she  answered  and  looked  down.  John 
longed  to  appeal  to  her — but  he  was  too  honest  to  seek 
to  soften  her  through  the  link  of  the  child.  Indeed,  the 
thought  of  it  had  grown  hateful  to  him.  He  only  knew 
that  he  had  played  for  a  stake  which  now  seemed  worth- 
less. Amaryllis  and  her  love  mattered  more  than  any 
child. 

He  clenched  his  hands  tightly;  the  pain  of  things 
seemed  hard  to  bear. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  i% 

Why  had  he  not  broken  the  thongs  of  reserve  which 
held  him  long  days  ago  and  made  love  to  her  in  words? 
But  that  would  have  been  dishonest.  He  must  at  least 
be  true;  and  he  realised  now  that  he  had  starved  her — 
no  matter  what  his  motive  had  been. 

"Amaryllis,  tell  me  everything,  please,"  and  he  held 
out  his  hands  and  drew  her  to  the  sofa  and  sat  down  by 
her  side. 

She  could  not  control  her  emotion  any  longer,  and  her 
voice  shook  as  she  answered  him : 

"I  know  that  it  was  not  you — but  Denzil,  John — and 
the  baby  is  his,  not  yours." 

His  face  altered.  He  had  not  been  prepared  to  hear 
this  thing  and  he  was  stunned. 

"Ferdinand  is  an  awful  possibility  to  contemplate  there 
at  Ardayre,  if  you  have  no  son — "  She  went  on,  trying 
to  be  calm,  "but  do  you  not  think  that  you  might  have  told 
me?  Surely  a  woman  has  the  right  to  select  the  father 
of  her  child." 

John  could  not  answer  her.  He  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands. 

"You  see  it  is  all  pitiful,"  she  continued,  her  voice  deep 
and  broken  with  almost  a  sob  in  it.  "Denzil  is  so  like 
you — it  was  an  easy  transition  to  find  that  I  loved  him — 
because  I  was  only  loving  the  imaginary  you  I  had  made 
for  myself.  I  cannot  explain  myself  and  do  not  make 
any  excuse.  There  is  something  in  me,  whenever  I  think 
of  the  baby,  that  draws  me  to  Denzil  and  makes  me  re- 
member that  night.  John,  we  must  just  face  the  situ- 
ation and  try  to  find  some  way  to  avoid  as  much  pain  as 
we  can.  I  hate  to  think  it  is  hurting  you,  too." 

"Did  Denzil  tell  you  this  ?"  his  voice  was  icy  cold. 


196  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"No — it  came  to  me  suddenly  when  I  heard  him  say  a 
word." 

"'Sweetheart'!"  and  now  John's  eyes  flashed.  "He 
called  you  again  'Sweetheart' !" 

"No,  he -did  not — he  used  the  word  simply  in  speak- 
ing of  a  picture — but  I  recognised  his  voice  then  im- 
mediately— it  is  a  little  deeper  than  yours." 

"When  did  you  see  Denzil  ?" 

She  told  him  the  exact  truth  about  their  meeting  and 
his  coming  to  Ardayre,  and  how  Denzil  had  endeavoured 
to  keep  his  word. 

"He  would  never  have  spoken  to  me — it  was  fate 
which  sent  him  into  the  train,  and  then  I  made  him  speak 
— I  could  not  bear  it.  After  I  recognised  him,  I  made 
him  admit  that  it  was  he.  Denzil  is  not  to  blame.  He 
left  immediately  and  I  have  never  seen  him  or  heard  from 
him  since.  It  is  I  alone  who  must  be  counted  with,  John 
— Denzil  will  try  never  to  see  me  again." 

John  groaned  aloud. 

"Oh  God— the  misery  of  it  all !" 

"John,  I  must  tell  you  everything  now  while  we  are 
talking  of  these  things.  I  love  Denzil  utterly.  I  thrill 
when  I  think  of  him ;  he  seems  to  me  my  husband,  not 
even  only  a  lover.  John,  not  long  ago,  when  I  felt 
the  first  movement  of  the  child,  I  shook  with  longing 
for  him — I  found  myself  murmuring  his  name  aloud. 
So  you  must  think  what  it  all  means  to  me,  so  strongly 
passionate  as  I  am.  But  I  would  never  cheat  you,  John 
— I  had  to  be  honest.  I  could  not  go  on  pretending  to 
be  your  wife  and  living  a  lie." 

Tears  of  agony  gathered  in  John  Ardayre's  blue  eyes 
and  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  197 

He  suddenly  understood  the  suffering,  that  she,  too, 
must  be  undergoing. 

What  right  had  he  to  have  taken  this  young  and  lov- 
ing woman  and  then  to  have  used  her  for  his  own  aims, 
however  high? 

"Amaryllis — you  cannot  forgive  me.  I  see  now  that  I 
was  wrong." 

But  the  sympathy  which  she  had  felt  when  she  had 
looked  at  him  from  the  piano  welled  up  again  in 
Amaryllis's  heart  and  drowned  all  resentment.  She  knew 
that  he  must  be  enduring  pain  greater  than  hers,  so  she 
stretched  out  her  hands  to  him,  and  he  took  them  and  held 
them  in  his. 

"Of  course,  I  forgive  you,  John — but  I  cannot  cease 
from  loving  Denzil,  that  is  the  tragedy  of  the  thing. 
I  am  his  really,  not  yours,  even  if  I  never  see  him  again, 
and  that  is  why  we  must  not  make  any  pretences.  John 
dearest,  let  us  be  friends — and  live  as  friends,  then  every- 
thing won't  be  so  hard." 

He  let  her  hands  drop  and  got  up  and  paced  the  room. 
He  was  suffering  acutely — must  he  renounce  even  the  joy 
of  holding  her  in  his  arms? 

"But  I  love  you,  Amaryllis — I  love  you,  dearest 
child " 

And  now  again  she  said  "Alas !" — and  that  was  all. 

"Amaryllis — this  is  a  frightful  sacrifice  to  me — must 
you  insist  upon  it?" 

Then  her  eyes  seemed  to  flash  fire  and  her  cheeks  grew 
rose — and  she  stood  up  and  faced  him. 

"I  tell  you,  John,  you  do  not  know  me.  You  have  seen 
a  well  brought  up,  conventional  girl — milk  and  water, 
ready  to  obey  your  slightest  will — I  had  not  found  my- 
self. I  am  a  creature  avs  primitive  and  passionate  as  a  saw- 


198  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

age" — her  breath  came  in  little  pants  with  her  great  emo- 
tion,— "I  could  not  belong  to  two  men — it  would  utterly 
degrade  me,  then  I  do  not  know  what  I  should  become. 
I  love  Denzil,  body  and  soul — and  while  he  lives  no  other 
man  shall  ever  touch  me;  that  is  what  passion  means  to 
me — fidelity  to  the  thing  I  love!  He  is  my  Beloved  and 
my  darling,  and  I  must  go  away  from  you  altogether  and 
throw  off  the  thought  of  the  family,  and  implore  Denzil 
to  take  me  when  he  comes  home  if  you  can  agree  to  the 
only  terms  I  can  offer  you  now." 

John  bowed  his  head.  Life  seemed  over  for  him  and 
done. 

Amaryllis  came  close  to  him,  then  she  stood  on  tip- 
toe and  kissed  his  brow.  Her  vehemence  had  died  down 
in  her  sorrow  for  his  pain. 

"John,"  she  whispered  softly,  "won't  you  always  be 
my  dearest  friend?  And  when  the  baby  comes  it  will 
be  a  deep  interest  to  us  both,  and  you  must  love  it  be- 
cause it  is  mine  and  an  Ardayre — and  the  comfort  of  that 
must  fill  our  lives.  I  truly  believe  that  you  did  everything, 
meaning  it  for  the  best,  only  perhaps  it  is  dangerous  to 
play  with  the  creation  of  life — perhaps  that  is  why  fate 
forced  me  to  know." 

John  drew  her  to  him,  he  smoothed  the  soft  brown 
hair  back  from  her  brow  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  but 
not  on  the  lips — those  he  told  himself  he  must  renounce 
for  evermore. 

"Amaryllis," — his  voice  was  husky  still,  "yes — I  will 
be  your  friend,  darling — and  I  will  love  your  child. 
I  was  very  wrong  to  marry  you,  but  it  was  not  quite 
hopeless  then,  and  you  were  so  young  and  splendid  and 
living — and  I  was  growing  to  love  you,  and  for  these 
reasons  I  hoped  against  hope — and  then  when  I  knew 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  199 

that  everything  was  impossible — I  felt  that  I  must  make 
it  up  to  you  in  every  other  way  I  could.  I  don't  know 
how  to  put  things  into  words,  I  always  was  dull,  but  I 
thought  if  I  gratified  all  your  wishes  perhaps — Ah ! — I 
see  it  was  very  cruel.  Darling,  I  would  have  told  you  the 
truth — presently — but  then  the  war  came,  and  the  thought 
of  Ferdinand  here  drove  me  mad  and  it  forced  my  hand." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  her  sweet  true  eyes — her 
one  idea  was  now  to  comfort  him  since  she  need  no  longer 
fear. 

"John,  if  you  had  explained  the  whole  thing  to  me — 
I  do  not  know,  perhaps  I  should  have  agreed  with  you, 
for  I,  too,  have  much  of  this  family  pride,  and  I  cannot 
bear  to  think  of  Ferdinand — or  his  children  which  may  be, 
at  Ardayre.  I  might  have  voluntarily  consented — I  can- 
not be  sure.  But  somehow  just  lately  I  have  been  think- 
ing very  much  about  spiritual  things,  things  I  mean  be- 
yond the  material,  those  great  forces  which  must  be  all 
around  us,  and  I  have  wondered  if  we  are  not  perhaps  too 
ignorant  yet  to  upset  any  laws.  Perhaps  I  am  stupid — I 
don't  know  really.  I  have  only  been  wondering — but  per- 
haps there  are  powerful  currents  connected  with  laws, 
whether  they  are  just  or  unjust,  simply  because  of  the 
force  of  people's  thoughts  for  hundreds  of  years  around 
them." 

They  went  to  the  sofa  then  and  sat  down.  It  made 
John  happier  to  hear  her  talk.  His  strong  will  was  now 
conquering  the  outward  show  of  his  emotion  at  last. 

"It  may  be  so " 

"You  see,  supposing  anything  should  happen  to 
Ferdinand,"  she  went  on,  "then  Denzil  would  have  been 
naturally  the  next  heir — and  now — if  the  child  is  a 
boy " 


2oo  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

John  started. 

"We  neither  of  us  thought  of  that." 

"But  nothing  is  likely  to  happen  to  Ferdinand ;  he  won't 
enlist — it  is  only  you,  dear  John,  who  are  in  danger,  and 
Denzil,  toq — but  surely  the  war  cannot  go  on  long  now  ?" 

John  wondered  if  he  should  tell  her  what  he  really  felt 
about  this,  or  whether  it  were  wiser  to  ke'ep  her  quietly  in 
this  hopeful  dream  of  a  speedy  end.  He  decided  to  say 
nothing;  it  was  better  for  her  health  not  to  agitate  her 
mind — events  would  speak  for  themselves,  alas,  presently. 

He  talked  quietly  then  of  Ardayre  and  of  his  boy- 
hood and  of  its  sorrows;  he  was  determined  to  break 
down  his  own  reserve,  and  Amaryllis  listened  interestedly, 
and  gradually  some  kind  of  peace  and  calm  seemed  to 
come  to  them  both,  and  they  resolutely  banished  the 
thought  of  the  future,  and  sought  only  to  think  of  the 
present.  And  then  at  last  John  rose  and  took  her  hand : 

"Go  to  bed  now,  dear  girl, — and  to-morrow  I  shall  have 
quite  conquered  all  the  feelings  which  could  disturb  you, 
and  just  remember  always  that  I  am  indeed  your  friend." 

She  understood  at  last  the  greatness  of  his  sacrifice  and 
the  fineness  of  his  soul,  and  she  fell  into  a  passion  of 
weeping  and  ran  from  the  room. 

But  John,  left  alone,  sank  down  into  the  same  chair 
as  he  had  done  once  before  on  the  night  he  was  waiting 
for  Denzil,  and,  as  then,  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  next  day  they  met  at  breakfast.  John  had  not 
slept  at  all  and  was  very  pale  and  Amaryllis's  eyes  still 
showed  the  deepened  violet  shadows  from  much  weeping. 
But  they  were  both  quite  calm. 

She  came  over  to  John  and  kissed  his  forehead  with 
gentle  tenderness  and  then  gave  him  his  tea.  They  tried 
to  talk  in  a  friendly  way  as  of  old  before  any  new  emo- 
tions had  come  into  their  lives.  And  gradually  the  strain 
became  lessened. 

They  arranged  to  go  out  shopping,  and  John  bought 
Amaryllis  a  new  emerald  ring. 

"Green  is  the  colour  of  hope,"  she  said.  "I  want  green, 
John,  because  it  will  make  me  think  of  the  springtime  and 
nature,  and  all  beautiful  things." 

They  lunched  at  a  restaurant  and  in  the  afternoon 
went  down  to  Ardayre.  John  had  many  things  to  attend 
to  and  would  be  occupied  all  the  following  day. 

There  had  been  no  Christmas  feasting,  but  there  were 
gifts  to  be  distributed  and  various  other  duties  and  cere- 
monies to  be  gone  through,  although  they  had  missed  the 
Christmas  day.  Amaryllis  tried  in  every  way  to  be  help- 
ful to  her  husband,  and  he  appreciated  her  stateliness  and 
sweet  manners  with  all  the  tenants  and  people  on  the 
estate. 

So  the  four  days  passed  quite  smoothly,  and  the  last 
night  of  the  old  year  came. 

"I  don't  think  that  you  must  sit  up  for  it,  dear,"  John 
201 


202  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

said  after  dinner.  "It  will  only  tire  you,  and  it  is  always 
a  rather  sad  moment  unless  one  has  a  party  as  we  always 
had  in  old  days." 

Amaryllis  went  obediently  to  her  room  and  stayed  there ; 
sleep  was  far  from  her  eyes.  What  was  the  rest  of  her 
life  going  to  be  without  Denzil?  And  what  of  John? 
Would  they  settle  down  into  a  real  quiet  friendship  when 
he  came  back,  and  the  child  was  born?  Or  would  she 
have  always  to  feel  that  he  loved  her  and  was  for  ever 
suffering  pain? 

The  more  she  thought  the  less  clear  the  issue  became, 
and  the  deeper  the  sadness  in  the  atmosphere. 

At  last  she  slipped  down  onto  the  big  white  bear-skin 
rug  and  began  to  pray. 

But  when  the  clock  struck  midnight,  and  the  New  Year 
bells  rang  out,  a  dreadful  depression  fell  upon  her,  a  sense 
of  foreboding  and  fear. 

She  tried  to  tell  herself  that  she  was  foolish,  and  it 
was  all  caused  only  because  she  was  so  highly  strung  and 
sensitive  now,  on  account  of  her  state.  But  the  thought 
would  persist  that  danger  threatened  some  one  she  loved. 
Was  it  Denzil,  or  John? 

Amaryllis  tried  to  force  herself  from  her  unhappy  im- 
pressions by  thinking  of  what  she  could  do  presently  in 
the  summer,  when  she  would  be  quite  well  again,  though 
her  greatest  work  must  always  be  to  try  to  make  John 
happy,  if  by  then  he  had  come  home. 

She  heard  him  go  into  his  room  at  about  one  o'clock, 
and  then  she  crept  noiselessly  to  her  great  gilt  bed. 

John  had  waited  for  the  New  Year  by  the  cedar  parlour 
fire.  The  room  was  so  filled  with  the  radiance*  of 
Amaryllis  that  he  liked  being  there. 

And  he,  too,  was  thinking  of  what  their  new  life  would 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  203 

be  should  he  chance  to  come  through.  The  ache  in  his 
heart  would  gradually  subside,  he  supposed,  but  how 
would  he  bear  the  long  years,  knowing  that  Amaryllis 
was  thinking  of  Denzil — and  longing  for  him — and  if  fate 
made  them  meet — what  then? 

How  could  he  endure  to  know  that  these  two  beings 
were  suffering? 

There  seemed  no  clear  outlook  ahead.  But,  as  he 
knew  only  too  well  death  could  hardly  fail  to  intervene, 
and  if  it  should  claim  Denzil,  then  he  must  console 
Amaryllis'  grief.  But  if  happily  it  could  be  he  who  were 
taken,  then  their  future  path  would  be  clear. 

He  could  not  forget  the  third  eventuality,  that  he  and 
Denzil  might  both  be  killed.  He  thought  and  thought 
over  them  all,  and  at  last  he  decided  to  add  a  letter  to  his 
will.  If  he  should  be  killed  he  would  ask  Denzil  to  marry 
Amaryllis  immediately,  without  waiting  for  the  conven- 
tional year.  The  times  were  too  strenuous,  and  she  must 
not  be  left  unprotected — alone  with  the  child. 

He  got  up  and  began  the  letter  to  his  lawyer,  and  so  the 
instructions  ran: 

"I  request  my  cousin  Denzil  Benedict  Ardayre  to  marry 
Amaryllis,  my  wife,  as  soon  as  possible  after  my  death,  if 
he  can  get  leave  and  is  still  alive.  I  confide  her  to  his 
care  and  ask  them  both  not  to  let  any  conventional  idea 
of  mourning  stand  in  the  way  of  these,  my  urgent  last 
commands.  And  I  ask  my  cousin  Denzil,  if  he  lives 
through  the  war,  to  take  great  care  of  the  bringing  up  of 
the  child." 

He  read  thus  far,  and  when  he  came  to  "the  child"  he 
scratched  it  out  and  wrote  "my  child"  deliberately,  and 
then  he  went  on  to  add  his  wishes  for  its  education,  should 
it  be  a  boy.  The  will  had  already  amply  provided  for 


204  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Amaryllis,  so  that  she  would  be  a  rich  woman  for  the 
rest  of  her  days. 

When  all  this  was  clearly  copied  out  and  sealed  up  in 
an  envelope  addressed  to  his  lawyer,  the  clock  struck 
twelve. 

The  silence  in  the  old  house  was  complete;  there  was 
no  revelry  for  the  first  time  for  many  years,  even  the 
servants  far  off  in  their  wing  had  gone  to  rest. 

It  seemed  to  John  that  the  shadow  of  sorrow  was  sud- 
denly removed  from  him,  and  as  though  a  weight  of  care 
had  been  lifted  from  his  heart.  He  could  not  account 
for  the  alteration,  but  he  felt  no  longer  sad.  Was  it 
an  omen?  Was  this  New  Year  going  to  fulfill  some 
great  thing  after  all?  A  divine  peace  fell  upon  him,  and 
then  a  pleasant  sensation  of  sleep,  and  he  turned  out  the 
lights  and  went  softly  to  his  room,  and  was  soon  in  bed. 

And  then  he  slept  soundly  until  late  in  the  morning, 
and  awoke  refreshed  and  serene  on  New  Year's  day. 

His  leave  was  up  on  the  third  of  January  and  he  re- 
turned to  London,  but  he  would  not  let  Amaryllis  undergo 
the  fatigue  of  accompanying  him.  He  said  good-bye  to 
her  there  at  Ardayre.  She  felt  extremely  sad  and 
unhappy. 

Had  she  done  well,  after  all,  to  have  told  John  the 
truth?  Should  she  have  borne  things  as  they  were  and 
waited  until  the  end  of  the  war?  But  no,  that  would 
have  been  impossible  to  her  nature.  If  she  might  not 
have  Denzil  for  her  lover,  she  would  have  no  other  man. 

John's  cheerfulness  astonished  her — it  was  so  uniform, 
it  could  not  be  assumed.  Perhaps  she  did  not  yet  under- 
stand him,  perhaps  in  his  heart  he  was  glad  that  all  pre- 
tences had  come  to  an  end. 

They  had  the  most  affectionate  parting.    John  never 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  205 

was  sentimental,  and  he  went  off  with  brave,  cheery 
words,  and  every  injunction  that  she  was  to  take  the  great- 
est care  of  herself. 

"Remember,  Amaryllis,  that  you  are  the  most  precious 
thing  on  earth  to  me — and  you  must  think  also  of  the 
child." 

She  promised  him  that  she  would  carry  out  all  his 
wishes  in  this  respect  and  remain  quietly  at  Ardayre 
until  the  first  of  April,  when  perhaps  he  could  get  leave 
again  and  then  she  would  go  to  London  for  the  birth  of 
the  baby. 

John  turned  and  waved  his  hand  as  he  went  off  down 
the  avenue,  and  Amaryllis  watched  the  motor  until  it 
was  out  of  sight,  the  tears  slowly  brimming  over  and 
running  down  her  cheeks. 

She  noticed  that  at  the  turn  in  the  avenue  a  telegraph 
boy  passed  the  car  and  came  straight  on.  The  wire  was 
not  for  John  evidently,  so  she  would  wait  at  the  door 
to  see.  It  proved  to  be  for  her,  and  from  Denzil's  mother, 
saying  that  she  was  en  route  for  Dorchester,  motoring, 
and  would  stop  at  Ardayre  on  the  chance  of  finding  its 
mistress  at  home.  Amaryllis  felt  suddenly  excited ;  she 
had  often  longed  for  this  and  yet  in  some  way  she  had 
feared  it  also.  What  new  emotions  might  the  meeting  not 
arouse? 

It  was  quite  early  after  luncheon  that  Mrs.  Ardayre 
was  announced.  Amaryllis  had  waited  in  the  green  draw- 
ing room,  thinking  that  she  would  come.  She  was  play- 
ing the  piano  at  the  far  end  to  try  and  lighten  her  feeling 
of  depression,  when  the  door  opened,  and  to  her  astonish- 
ment quite  a  young,  slight  woman  came  into  the  room. 
She  was  a  little  lame,  and  walked  with  a  stick.  For  a  mo- 


206  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

ment  Amaryllis  thought  she  must  be  mistaken,  and  rose 
with  a  vague,  but  gracious  look  in  her  eyes. 

Mrs.  Ardayre  held  out  her  hand  and  smiled : 

"I  hope  you  got  my  telegram  in  time,"  she  said  cor- 
dially. "I  'felt  I  must  not  lose  the  opportunity  of  making 
your  acquaintance.  My  son  has  been  so  anxious  for  us 
to  meet." 

"You — you  can't  be  Denzil's  mother,  surely !"  Amaryl- 
lis exclaimed.  "He  is  much  too  old  to  be  your  son!" 

Mrs.  Ardayre  smiled  again — while  Amaryllis  made  her 
sit  down  on  the  sofa  beside  her  and  helped  her  off  with 
her  furs.  "I  am  forty-nine  years  old,  Amaryllis — if  I 
may  call  you  so— but  one  ought  never  to  grow  old  in  body. 
It  is  not  necessary,  and  it  is  not  agreeable  to  the  eye !" 

Amaryllis  looked  at  her  carefully  in  the  full  side  light. 
It  was  the  shape,  of  her  face,  she  decided,  which  gave  her 
such  youth.  There  were  no  unsightly  bones  to  cause 
shadows  and  the  skin  was  smooth  and  ivory — and  her 
eyes  were  bright  brown ;  their  expression  was  very  humor- 
ous as  well  as  kindly,  and  Amaryllis  was  drawn  to  her  at 
once. 

They  talked  about  their  desire  to  know  one  another 
and  about  the  family,  and  the  place,  and  the  war — and 
at  last  they  spoke  of  Denzil,  and  Mrs.  Ardayre  told  of 
what  his  life  was,  and  his  whereabouts  now,  and  then 
grew  retrospective. 

"He  is  the  dearest  boy  in  the  world,"  she  said.  "We 
have  been  friends  always,  and  now  he  will  not  allow  me 
to  be  anxious  about  him.  I  really  think  that  as  far  as 
the  frightfulness  of  things  will  let  him  be,  he  is  actually 
enjoying  his  life!  Men  are  such  queer  creatures,  they 
like  to  fight !" 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  207 

Amaryllis  asked  what  was  her  latest  news  of  him,  and 
where  he  was,  and  listened  interestedly  to  Mrs.  Ardayre's 
replies : 

"The  cavalry  have  not  had  very  much  to  do  lately, 
fortunately,"  she  remarked.  "My  husband  has  just  gone 
back,  but  I  suppose  if  there  is  a  shortage  of  men  for  the 
trenches,  they  will  be  dismounted  perhaps." 

"I  expect  so — then  we  shall  have  to  use  all  our  courage 
and  control  our  fears." 

Amaryllis  turned  the  conversation  back  to  Denzil  again, 
and  drew  his  mother  out.  She  would  like  to  have  heard 
incidents  of  his  childhood  and  of  how  he  looked  when  he 
was  a  little  boy,  but  she  was  too  timid  to  ask  any  deliber- 
ate questions.  She  felt  drawn  to  this  lady,  she  looked  so 
young  and  human.  Perhaps  she  was  not  so  wonderful  in 
evening  dress,  but  her  figure  was  boyish  in  its  slim  spare- 
ness — in  these  serge  travelling  clothes  she  hardly  looked 
thirty-five ! 

She  wondered  what  Denzil  had  told  his  mother  about 
her — probably  that  she  was  going  to  have  a  child,  but 
nothing  more. 

They  talked  in  the  most  friendly  way  for  half  an  hour, 
and  then  Amaryllis  asked  her  guest  if  she  would  like  to 
come  and  see  the  house  and  especially  the  picture  gallery 
and  the  Elizabethan  Denzil  hanging  there. 

"It  is  just  my  boy!"  Mrs.  Ardayre  cried,  when  they 
stood  in  front  of  it.  "Eyes  and  all,  they  are  bold  and 
true  and  so  loving.  Oh !  my  dear  child,  you  can't  think 
what  a  darling  he  is ;  from  his  babyhood  every  woman  has 
adored  him — the  nurse  maids  were  his  slaves,  and  my  old 
housekeeper  and  my  maid  are  like  two  jealous  cats  as  to 
who  shall  do  things  for  him  when  he  comes  home.  He 


208  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

has  that  queer  quality  which  can  wile  a  bird  off  a  tree. 
I  daresay  I  am  the  silliest  of  them  all!" 

Amaryllis  listened,  enchanted. 

"You  see  he  has  not  one  touch  of  me  in  him,"  Mrs. 
Ardayre  went  on,  "but  I  was  so  frantically  in  love  with 
my  husband  when  he  was  born,  he  naturally  was  all  Ar- 
dayre. Does  it  not  interest  you,  Amaryllis,  to  wonder 
what  your  little  one,  when  it  comes,  will  look  like?  It 
ought  to  be  pronouncedly  of  the  family,  your  being  also 
an  Ardayre." 

"Indeed  yes,  I  am  very  curious.  And  how  we  all  hope 
that  it  will  be  a  son !" 

"Is  there  a  portrait  of  your  husband  here?  Denzil 
says  they  are  alike." 

"There  is  one  in  my  sitting  room;  it  is  going  to  be 
moved  in  here  presently,  when  mine  is  done  next  year. 
It  is  by  Sargent,  almost  the  last  portrait  he  painted.  Let 
us  go  there  now  and  see  it." 

"But  there  is  no  likeness,"  Mrs.  Ardayre  exclaimed 
presently,  when  they  had  gone  to  the  cedar  parlour  and 
were  examining  the  picture  of  John.  "Can  you  discover 
it?" 

"I  thought  they  were  very  alike  once — but  I  do  not  al- 
together see  it  now." 

Mrs.  Ardayre  smiled.  "I  cannot,  of  course,  think  any 
one  can  compare  with  my  Denzil!  And  yet  I  am  not  a 
real  mother  at  all!  I  am  totally  devoid  of  the  maternal 
instinct  in  the  abstract !  Children  bore  me,  and  I  am  glad 
I  have  never  had  any  more.  I  adore  Denzil  because  he  is 
Denzil.  I  loved  my  husband  and  delighted  in  being  the 
mother  of  his  son." 

"There  are  the  two  sorts  of  women,  are  not  there? 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  209 

The  mother  woman  and  the  mate  woman — we  have  to 
be  one  or  the  other,  I  suppose.  I  hardly  yet  know  to 
which  category  I  belong,"  and  Amaryllis  sighed,  "but  I 
rather  think  that  I  am  like  you — the  man  might  matter 
even  more  to  me  than  the  child,  and  I  know  that  the  child 
matters  to  me  enormously  because  of  the  man.  It  is  all 
a  great  mystery  and  a  wonder  though." 

Beatrice  Ardayre  looked  up  at  the  portrait  of  John ;  his 
stolid  face  did  not  give  her  the  impression  that  he  could 
make  a  woman,  and  such  a  fascinating  and  adorable  crea- 
ture as  Amaryllis,  passionately  in  love  with  him,  or  fill 
her  with  mysterious  feelings  of  emotion  about  his  child! 
Now,  if  it  had  been  Denzil  she  could  have  understood 
a  woman's  committing  any  madness  for  him,  but  this 
stodgy,  respectable  John! 

Her  bright  brown  eyes  glanced  at  Amaryllis  furtively, 
and  she  saw  that  she  was  looking  up  at  the  picture  with 
an  expression  of  deep  melancholy  on  her  face. 

There  was  some  mystery  here. 

She  went  over  again  in  her  mind  what  Denzil  had  told 
her  about  Amaryllis.  It  was  not  a  great  deal.  He  had 
arrived  at  Bath  that  time  looking  very  stern  and  ab- 
stracted, and  had  mentioned  rather  shortly  that  he  had 
come  down  with  the  head  of  the  family's  wife  in  the  train, 
and  had  gone  on  to  Ardayre  with  her,  after  meeting  them 
the  previous  night  at  dinner  for  the  first  time. 

He  had  not  been  at  all  expansive,  but  later  in  the  eve- 
ning when  they  had  sat  by  her  sitting  room  fire,  he  had 
suddenly  said  something  which  had  startled  her  greatly: 

"Mum — I  want  you  to  know  Amaryllis  Ardayre.  I  am 
madly  in  love  with  her — she  is  going  to  have  a  baby,  and 
she  seems  to  be  so  alone." 


2io  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

It  must  be  one  of  those  sudden  passions,  and  the  idea 
seemed  in  some  way  to  jar  a  little.  Denzil  to  have  fallen 
in  love  with  a  woman  whom  he  knew  was  going  to  have 
a  child! 

She  had  said  something  of  this  to  him,  and  he  had 
turned  eyes  full  of  pain  to  her  and  even  reproach. 

"Mum — you  always  understand  me — I  am  not  a  beast, 
you  know — I  haven't  anything  more  to  say,  only  I  want 
you  to  be  really  kind  to  her — and  get  to  know  her  well." 

And  he  had  not  mentioned  the  subject  again,  but  had 
been  very  preoccupied  during  all  his  three  days'  visit, 
which  state  she  could  not  account  for  by  the  fact  of  the 
war — Denzil,  she  knew,  was  an  enthusiastic  soldier,  and  to 
be  going  out  to  fight  would  naturally  be  to  him  a  keen 
joy.  What  did  it  all  mean?  And  here  was  this  sweet 
creature  speaking  of  divine  love  mysteries  and  looking  up 
at  the  portrait  of  her  dull,  unattractive  husband  with 
melancholy  eyes,  whereas  they  had  sparkled  with  interest 
when  Denzil  was  the  subject  of  conversation !  Could  she, 
too,  have  fallen  in  love  with  Denzil  in  one  night  at  dinner 
and  a  journey  in  the  train! 

It  was  all  very  remarkable. 

They  had  tea  together  in  the  green  drawing  room,  and 
by  that  time  they  had  become  very  good  friends. 

Mrs.  Ardayre  told  Amaryllis  of  the  little  old  manor 
home  she  had  in  Kent — The  Moat,  it  was  called,  and  of 
her  garden  and  the  pleasure  it  was  to  her. 

"I  had  about  twelve  thousand  a  year  of  my  own,  you 
know,"  she  said,  "and  ever  since  Denzil  was  born  I  have 
each  year  put  by  half  of  it,  so  that  when  he  was  twenty- 
one  I  was  able  to  hand  over  to  him  quite  a  decent  sum 
that  he  might  be  independent  and  free.  It  is  so  humili- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  211 

ating  for  a  man  to  have  to  be  subservient  to  a  woman, 
even  a  mother,  and  I  go  on  doing  the  same  every  year. 
All  the  last  years  of  his  life  my  husband  was  very  deli- 
cate— he  was  so  badly  wounded  in  the  South  African 
War,  you  know — so  we  lived  very  quietly  at  The  Moat 
and  in  my  tiny  house  in  London.  I  hope  you  will  let  me 
show  you  them  both  one  day." 

Amaryllis  said  she  would  be  delighted,  and  added : 

"You  will  come  and  see  me,  won't  you?  I  am  going 
up  to  our  house  in  Brook  Street  at  the  beginning  of  April, 
and  I  am  praying  that  I  may  have  a  little  son  about  the 
first  week  in  May." 

Just  before  Mrs.  Ardayre  went  on  to  Dorchester,  she 
asked  Amaryllis  if  she  had  any  message  to  send  Denzil — 
she  wanted  to  watch  her  face.  It  flushed  slightly  and  her 
deep  soft  voice  said  a  little  eagerly : 

"Yes — tell  him  I  have  been  so  delighted  to  meet  you, 
and  you  are  just  what  he  said  I  should  find  you! — and 
tell  him  I  sent  him  all  sorts  of  good  wishes — "  and  then 
she  became  a  little  confused. 

When  Amaryllis  was  alone  after  the  motor  with  Mrs. 
Ardayre  in  it  had  departed,  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  rest- 
lessness came  over  her.  The  visit  had  stirred  up  all  her 
emotions  again ;  she  could  not  grieve  any  more  about  the 
tragedy  of  John;  her  whole  being  was  vibrating  with 
thoughts  of  Denzil  and  desire  for  his  presence — she  could 
see  his  face  and  feel  the  joy  of  his  kisses. 

At  that  moment  she  would  have  flung  everything  in 
life  away  to  rush  into  his  arms ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Denzil  was  wounded  at  Neuve  Chapelle  on  March  loth, 
1915,  though  not  seriously — a  flesh  wound  in  the  side. 
He  had  done  most  gallantly  and  was  to  get  a  D.  S.  O. 
He  had  been  in  hospital  for  two  weeks  and  was  almost 
well  when  Amaryllis  came  up  to  Brook  Street,  on  the  first 
of  April.  She  had  read  his  name  in  the  list  of  wounded, 
and  had  telegraphed  to  his  mother  in  great  anxiety,  but 
had  been  reassured,  and  now  she  throbbed  with  longing  to 
see  him. 

To  know  that  soon  he  would  be  going  back  again  to 
the  Front,  was  almost  more  than  she  could  bear.  She 
was  feeling  wonderfully  well  herself.  Her  splendid  con- 
stitution and  her  youth  made  natural  things  cause  her 
little  distress.  She  was  neither  nervous  nor  fretful,  nor 
oppressed  with  fancies  and  moods.  And  she  looked  very 
beautiful  with  her  added  dignity  of  mien  and  perfectly 
chosen  clothes. 

Mrs.  Ardayre  came  at  once  to  see  her  the  morning  after 
her  arrival,  and  suggested  that  Denzil  should  come  when 
out  driving  that  afternoon.  Amaryllis  tried  to  accept 
this  suggestion  calmly,  and  not  show  her  joy,  and  Mrs. 
Ardayre  left,  promising  to  bring  her  son  about  four. 

Denzil  had  said  to  his  Mother  when  he  knew  that 
Amaryllis  was  coming  to  London : 

"Mum,  I  want  to  see  Amaryllis — please  arrange  it  for 
me.  And  Mum,  don't  ask  me  anything  about  it;  just 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  213 

leave  me  there  when  we  drive  and  come  and  fetch  me 
when  I  must  go  in  again." 

Mrs.  Ardayre  was  a  very  modern  person,  but  she  could 
not  help  exclaiming  in  a  half  voice  while  she  sat  by  her 
son's  bed : 

"You  know  she  is  going  to  have  a  baby  in  a  month, 
dear  boy,  perhaps  she  won't  care  to  see  you  now." 

A  flush  rose  to  Denzil's  forehead :  "Yes,  I  do  know," 
he  said  a  little  hurriedly,  "but  we  are  not  conventional  in 
these  days.  I  wish  to  see  her ;  please,  darling  Mother,  do 
what  I  ask." 

And  then  he  had  turned  the  conversation. 

So  his  mother  had  obediently  arranged  matters,  and  at 
about  four  in  the  afternoon  left  him  at  the  Brook  Street 
door. 

Early  as  it  was,  Amaryllis  had  made  the  tea,  and  ex- 
pected to  see  both  Denzil  and  his  mother.  The  room  was 
full  of  hyacinths  and  daffodils,  and  she  herself  looked  like 
a  spring  flower,  as  she  sat  on  the  sofa  among  the  green 
silk  cushions,  wrapped  in  a  pale  parma  violet  tea-gown. 

The  butler  announced  "Captain  Ardayre,"  and  Denzil 
came  in  slowly,  and  murmured  "How  do  you  do?" 

But  as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  upon  him,  he  started 
forward,  forgetting  his  stiff  side. 

He  covered  her  hands  with  kisses,  he  could  not  con- 
tain his  joy;  and  then  he  drew  back  and  looked  at  her 
with  worship  and  reverence  in  his  blue  eyes. 

The  most  mysterious,  quivering  emotions  were  coursing 
through  him,  mixed  with  triumph,  as  he  took  in  the  pic- 
ture she  made.  This  delicate,  beautiful  creature!  And 
to  see  her — so ! 

Amaryllis  lowered  her  head  in  a  sweet  confusion;  her 
feelings  were  no  less  aroused.  She  was  thrilling  with 


2i4  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

passionate  welcome  and  delicious  shyness.  Nature  was 
indeed  ruling  them  both,  and  with  a  glad  "Darling 
Angel !"  Denzil  sat  down  beside  her  and  clasped  her  in 
his  arms.  Then  for  a  few  seconds  delirious  pleasure  was 
all  that  they  knew. 

"Let  me  look  at  you  again,  Sweetheart,"  he  ordered 
presently,  with  a  tone  of  command  and  possession  in  his 
very  deep  voice,  which  caused  Amaryllis  delight.  It 
made  her  feel  that  she  really  belonged  to  him. 

"To  me  you  have  never  been  so  beautiful — and  every 
scrap  of  you  is  mine." 

"Absolutely  yours." 

"I  had  to  come — I  cannot  help  whether  it  is  right  or 
wrong.  I  must  go  back  to  the  Front  as  soon  as  I  am  fit, 
and  I  could  not  have  borne  to  go  without  seeing  you, 
darling  one." 

They  spent  an  hour  of  divine  intoxication,  and  then 
the  clock  struck  six. 

It  sounded  like  a  knell. 

Amaryllis  gave  a  little  cry. 

"Denzil,  it  is  altogether  unnatural  that  you  should 
have  to  go.  To  think  that  you  must  leave  me,  and 
may  not  even  welcome  your  son!  To  think  that  by 
the  law  we  are  sinning,  because  I  am  sitting  here  clasped 
in  your  arms!  To  think  that  I  may  not  have  the  joy 
of  showing  you  the  exquisite  little  clothes,  and  the  pink 
silk  cot — all  the  things  which  have  given  me  such  pleas- 
ure to  arrange.  ...  It  is  all  too  cruel!  You  know 
that  eighteenth  century  engraving  in  the  series  of  Mo- 
reau  le  Jeune,  of  the  married  lovers  playing  with  the 
darling,  teeny  cap  together!  Well,  I  have  it  beside 
my  bed,  and  every  day  I  look  at  it  and  pretend  it  is 
you  and  me !" 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  215 

"Darling — Darling!" — and  Denzil  fiercely  kissed  her, 
he  was  so  deeply  moved. 

"It  is  all  holy  and  beautiful,  the  coming  to  earth  of  a 
soul.  It  only  makes  me  long  to  be  good  and  noble  and 
worthy  of  this  wonderful  thing.  But  for  us — we  who 
love  truly  and  purely,  it  has  all  been  turned  into  something 
forbidden  and  wrong." 

"Heart  of  me — I  must  have  some  news  of  you.  I  can- 
not starve  there  in  the  trenches,  knowing  that  all  the 
letters  that  should  be  mine  are  going  to  John.  My  mother 
is  really  trustworthy,  will  you  let  her  be  with  you  as  often 
as  you  can,  that  she  may  be  able  to  tell  me  how  you  are, 
precious  one?  When  the  seventh  of  May  comes  I  shall 
go  perfectly  mad  with  suspense  and  anxiety.  I  will  ar- 
range that  my  mother  sends  me  at  once  a  telegram." 

"Denzil !"  and  Amaryllis  clung  to  him. 

"It  is  an  impossible  situation,"  and  he  gave  a  great 
sigh.  "I  shall  tell  John  that  I  have  seen  you — I  can- 
not help  it,  the  times  are  too  precarious  to  have  acted 
otherwise.  And  afterwards,  when  the  war  is  over,  we 
must  face  the  matter  and  decide  what  is  best  to  be  done." 

"I  cannot  live  without  you,  Denzil,  and  that  I  know." 

They  said  good-bye  at  last  silently,  after  many  kisses 
and  tears,  and  Denzil  came  out  into  the  darkening  street 
to  his  mother  in  the  motor,  with  white,  set  face. 

"I  am  a  little  troubled,  dearest  boy,"  she  whispered,  as 
they  went  along.  "I  feel  that  there  is  something  under- 
neath all  this  and  that  Amaryllis  means  some  great  thing 
in  your  life — the  whole  aspect  of  everything  fills  me  with 
discomfort.  It  is  unlike  your  usual,  sensitive  refinement, 
Denzil,  to  have  gone  to  see  her — now " 

"I  understand  exactly  what  you  mean,  Mother.  I 
should  say  the  same  thing  myself  in  your  place.  I  can't 


216  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

explain  anything,  only  I  beg  of  you  to  trust  me.  Amaryl- 
lis is  an  angel  of  purity  and  sweetness ;  perhaps  some  day 
you  will  understand." 

She  took  his  hand  into  her  muff  and  held  it : 

"You  know  I  have  no  conventions,  dearest,  and  my 
creed  is  to  believe  what  you  say,  but  I  cannot  account 
for  the  situation  because  of  your  only  having  met  Amaryl- 
lis so  lately  for  the  first  time.  I  could  understand  it  per- 
fectly if  you  had  been  her  lover,  and  the  child  was  your 
child,  but  she  has  not  been  married  a  whole  year  yet  to 
John!" 

Denzil  answered  nothing — he  pressed  his  mother's 
hand. 

She  returned  the  pressure: 

"We  will  talk  no  more  about  it." 

"And  you  will  go  on  being  kind?" 

"Of  course." 

Before  they  reached  the  hospital  door  in  Park  Lane 
Mrs.  Ardayre  had  been  instructed  to  send  an  immediate 
telegram  the  moment  the  baby  was  born,  and  to  comfort 
and  take  care  of  Amaryllis,  and  tell  her  son  every  little 
detail  as  to  her  welfare  and  about  the  child. 

"I  will  try  not  to  form  any  opinion,  Denzil ;  and  some 
day  perhaps  things  will  be  made  plain,  for  it  would  break 
my  heart  to  believe  that  you  are  a  dishonourable  man." 

"You  need  not  worry,  Mum  dearest.  Indeed,  I  am 
not  that.  It  is  just  a  tragic  story,  but  I  cannot  say 
more.  Only  take  care  of  Amaryllis,  and  send  me  news 
as  often  as  you  can." 

The  telegram  to  say  that  Amaryllis  had  a  little  son 
came  to  John  Ardayre  on  the  night  before  he  went  into 
the  trenches  again  at  the  second  battle  of  Ypres  on  May 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  217 

9th,  1915.  He  had  been  waiting  in  feverish  impatience 
and  expectancy  all  the  day,  and,  in  fact,  for  three  days 
for  news. 

His  whole  inner  life  since  that  New  Year's  night  had 
been  strangely  serene,  in  spite  of  its  frightful  outward 
turmoil  and  stress.  He  had  taken  the  tumult  of  Neuve 
Chapelle  calmly,  and  had  come  through  it  and  all  the 
beginning  of  the  Ypres  battle  without  a  scratch.  He  had 
felt  that  he  was  looking  upon  it  all  from  some  detached 
standpoint,  and  that  it  in  no  way  personally  concerned 
him. 

He  had  seen  Denzil  do  the  splendid  thing  and  he  had 
felt  a  distinct  distress  when  he  had  seen  him  fall  wounded. 

Denzil  was  just  back  now  and  in  the  trenches  again 
with  the  rest  of  the  dismounted  cavalry.  They  might 
meet  in  the  attack  at  dawn. 

When  John  read  the  telegram  from  his  aunt,  Lady 
de  la  Paule,  his  emotion  was  so  great  that  he  staggered 
a  little,  and  a  friend  standing  by  in  the  billet  took  out  his 
flask  and  gave  him  some  brandy,  thinking  that  he  must 
have  received  bad  news. 

Then  it  seemed  as  though  he  went  mad ! 

The  repression  of  his  life  appeared  to  fall  from  hinx, 
he  became  as  a  new  man.  All  his  comrades  were  as' 
tonished  at  him,  and  a  Scotch  Corporal  was  h£ard  to  re- 
mark that  it  was  "na  canny — the  Captain  was  fey." 

The  Ardayres  were  saved!  The  family  would  carry 
on! 

Fondest  love  welled  up  in  his  heart  for  Amaryllis. 
If  he  only  came  through  he  would  devote  his  life  to 
showing  her  his  gratitude  and  showering  everything  upon 
her  that  her  heart  could  desire — and  perhaps — perhaps 
the  joy  of  the  baby  would  make  up  for  the  absence  of 


218  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Denzil.     This  thought  stayed  with  him  and  comforted 
him. 

Lady  de  la  Paule  had  wired: 

"A  splendid  little  son  born  11.45  A.M.  seventh  May — 
Amaryllis  well — all  love." 

And  an  hour  or  two  before  this  Denzil  had  also  re- 
ceived the  news  from  his  Mother.  He,  too,  had  grown 
exalted  and  thanked  God. 

So  the  day  that  the  Germans  were  to  fail  at  Ypres,  and 
destiny  was  to  accomplish  itself  for  these  two  men — 
dawned. 

Of  what  use  to  write  of  that  terrible  fight  and  of  the 
gas  and  the  horror  and  the  mud  ?  John  Ardayre  seemed 
to  bear  a  charmed  life  as  he  led  his  men  "over  the  top." 
For  an  hour  wild  with  exaltation  and  gladness,  he  rallied 
them  and  cheered  them  on.  The  scene  of  blood  and 
carnage  has  been  too  often  repeated  on  other  fateful  days, 
and  as  often  well  described,  when  acts  of  glorious  heroism 
occurred  again  and  again.  John  had  rushed  forward  to 
succour  a  wounded  trooper  when  a  shell  crashed  near 
them,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground.  And  then  he  know  what 
the  great  thing  was  the  New  Year  had  promised  him. 
For  death  was  going  to  straighten  out  matters — John  was 
going  beyond.  Well,  he  had  never  been  rebellious,  and 
he  knew  now  that  light  had  come.  But  the  sky  above 
seemed  to  be  darkening  curiously,  and  the  terrible 
noise  to  be  growing  dim,  when  he  was  conscious  that  a 
man  was  crawling  towards  him,  dragging  a  leg,  and  then 
his  eyes  opened  wildly  for  an  instant,  and  he  saw  that 
it  was  Denzil  all  covered  with  blood. 

"Are   we  both   going   West,    Denzil?"   he   demanded 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  219 

faintly.  "At  least  I  am "  then  he  gasped  a  little, 

while  a  stream  of  scarlet  flowed  from  his  shattered  side. 

"I've  asked  you  in  a  letter  to  marry  Amaryllis  im- 
mediately— if  you  get  home.  I  hope  your  number  is 
not  up,  too,  because  she  will  be  all  alone.  Take  care  of 
her,  Denzil,  and  take  care  of  the  child.  .  .  ."  His  voice 
grew  lower  and  lower,  and  the  last  words  came  in  spasms  : 
"There  is  an  Ardayre  son,  you  know — so  it's  all  right. 
The  family  is  saved  from  Ferdinand  and  I  am  very  glad 
to  die." 

Denzil  tried  to  get  out  his  flask,  but  before  he  could 
reach  John's  lips  with  it  he  saw  that  it  would  be  of  no 
avail — for  Death  had  claimed  the  head  of  the  Family. 
And  above  his  mangled  body  John's  face  wore  a  look  of 
calm  serenity,  and  his  firm  lips  smiled. 

Then  things  became  all  vague  for  Denzil  and  he  re- 
membered nothing  more. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

It  was  more  than  two  months  before  Denzil  was  well 
enough  to  be  brought  from  Boulogne,  and  then  he  had  a 
relapse  and  for  the  whole  of  July  was  dangerously  ill. 
At  one  moment  there  seemed  to  be  no  hope  of  saving  his 
leg,  and  his  mother  ate  her  heart  out  with  anxiety. 

And  Amaryllis,  back  at  Ardayre  with  the  little  Benedict, 
wept  many  tears. 

John's  death  had  deeply  grieved  her.  She  realised  his 
steadfast  kindness  and  affection  for  her.  He  had  written 
her  a  letter  just  before  the  battle  had  begun — a  short 
epistle  telling  her  calmly  that  the  chances  would  be  per- 
haps even  for  any  man  to  come  out  of  it  alive — and  assur- 
ing her  of  his  greatest  devotion. 

"I  know  that  Denzil  went  to  see  you,  my  dear  little 
girl.  He  has  told  me  about  it.  And  I  know  that  you 
love  each  other.  There  is  only  one  chance  for  us  in  the 
future — and  that  lies  with  the  child.  It  may  be  that 
when  it  comes  to  you  it  may  fill  your  life  and  satisfy  you. 
This  is  my  prayer — otherwise  we  must  see  what  can  be 
arranged  about  things;  because  I  cannot  allow  you  to  be 
unhappy.  You  were  an  innocent  factor  in  all  this,  and  it 
would  be  unjust  that  you  should  be  hurt." 

How  good  and  generous  John  had  always  been. 

And  his  letter  to  his  lawyers !  To  make  things  smooth 
for  her — and  for  Denzil — how  marvellously  kind! 

Her  mourning  for  John  was  real  and  deep,  as  it  would 
have  been  for  a  brother.  But  during  the  month  of  in- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  221 

tense  anxiety  about  Denzil  everything  else  was  numbed, 
even  her  interest  in  her  son. 

By  the  end  of  August  he  was  out  of  danger,  although 
little  hope  was  entertained  that  he  would  ever  walk  easily. 
But  this  was  a  minor  thing — and  gradually  it  began  to  be 
some  consolation  to  the  two  women  who  loved  him  to 
know  that  he  was  safely  wounded  and  would  probably 
not  be  fit  for  active  service  again  for  a  very  long  time. 

They  wrote  letters  to  one  another,  but  they  decided  not 
to  meet.  Six  months  must  elapse  at  least,  they  both 
felt — even  in  spite  of  John's  commands. 

Another  shell  must  have  fallen  not  far  off,  for  his  body 
was  never  found — only  his  field  glasses,  broken  and 
battered.  And  there  would  have  been  no  actual  informa- 
tion about  his  death  had  not  Denzil  seen  him  die. 

Harietta  Boleski  and  Stanislass  and  Ferdinand  Ar- 
dayre  had  remained  in  Paris,  with  visits  to  Fontainebleau. 

When  John  had  been  killed,  Harietta  had  been  ex- 
tremely perturbed. 

"Now  Stepan  will  be  able  to  marry  that  odious  bit  of 
bread  and  butter,  and  he  is  sure  to  do  it  after  the  year !" 
This  thought  rankled  with  her  and  embittered  everything. 
Nothing  pleased  her.  She  grew  more  than  ever  rebel- 
lious at  the  dullness  she  had  to  live  in.  War  was  an  im- 
position which  ought  not  to  be  tolerated  and  she  often 
told  Hans  so.  At  last  she  grew  to  take  quite  an  interest 
in  her  spying  for  lack  of  more  agreeable  things  to  do. 

And  so  the  months  went  by  and  November  came,  and  a 
madness  of  jealousy  was  gradually  augmenting  in 
Harietta  for  Amaryllis  Ardayre. 

Verisschenzko  had  gone  to  Russia  in  September,  and 


222  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

she  was  convinced  that  he  loved  Amaryllis  and  that  the 
child  was  his  child.  She  could  not  conceive  of  a  spiritual 
devotion,  and  something  had  altered  all  Stepan's  ways. 
From  the  moment  he  returned  to  Paris  until  he  had  left 
she  had  tried  and  been  unable  to  invoke  any  response  in 
him,  and  she  had  felt  like  a  foiled  tigress  when  another 
has  eaten  her  prey. 

As  the  impossibility  of  moving  him  forced  itself  upon 
her  unwilling  understanding,  so  the  wildest  passion  for 
him  grew,  and  when  he  left  in  September  she  was  quite 
ill  for  a  week  with  chagrin;  then  she  became  moody  and 
more  than  ever  capricious,  and  made  Stanislass'  life  a 
hell,  while  Ferdinand  Ardayre  had  little  less  misery  to 
endure. 

An  incident  late  in  November  caused  her  jealousy  to 
burst  into  flame. 

She  heard  that  Verisschenzko  had  returned  from  Russia 
and  she  went  to  his  rooms  to  see  him.  The  Russian  serv- 
ant who  was  accustomed  to  receive  her  was  there  waiting 
for  his  master  who  had  not  yet  arrived.  Without  a  word 
she  passed  the  old  man  when  he  opened  the  door,  and 
made  her  way  into  the  sitting  room,  and  then  into  the  bed- 
room beyond.  She  did  not  believe  that  Stepan  was  not 
there  and  wanted  to  make  sure.  It  was  empty  but  a  light 
burned  before  an  Ikon,  the  doors  of  which  were  closed. 

Curiosity  made  Harietta  go  close  and  examine  it.  She 
knew  the  room  so  well  and  had  never  seen  it  there  before. 
The  table  beneath  it  was  arranged  like  an  altar,  and  the 
Ikon  was  let  in  to  the  carved  boiserie  of  the  wall.  It 
must  have  been  since  he  had  parted  with  her  that  this 
ridiculous  thing  had  been  done!  She  had  not  entered 
his  appartement  since  June.  She  felt  angry  that  the 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  223 

shrine  should  be  closed  and  that  she  could  not  look  upon 
it,  for  it  must  certainly  be  something  which  Verisschenzko 
prized. 

She  bent  nearer  and  shook  the  little  doors ;  they  resisted 
her,  and  her  temper  rose.  Then  some  force  seemed  to 
propel  her  to  commit  sacrilege.  She  shook  and  shook  and 
tore  at  the  golden  clasp,  her  irritation  giving  strength  and 
cunning  to  her  hands ;  and  at  last  the  small  bolt  came 
undone  and  the  doors  flew  open — and  an  exquisitely 
painted  modern  picture  of  the  Virgin  disclosed  itself, 
holding  the  Christ  child  in  her  arms.  But  for  all  the 
saintliness  in  the  eyes  of  Mary,  the  face  was  an  exact  por- 
trait of  Amaryllis  Ardayre ! 

A  frenzy  of  rage  seized  Harietta.  Her  rival  reigned 
now  indeed!  This  was  positive  proof  to  her,  not  of 
spiritual  meaning — not  of  the  mystic,  abstract  aloofness 
of  worship  which  lay  deep  in  Stepan's  nature  and  had 
caused  him  to  have  Amaryllis  transfigured  into  the  sym- 
bol of  purity,  a  daily  reminder  that  she  must  always  be 
for  him  the  lady  of  his  soul — such  things  had  no  meaning 
for  Harietta.  The  Ikon  was  merely  a  material  proof  that 
Verisschenzko  loved  Amaryllis — and,  of  course,  as  soon 
as  the  year  of  mourning  should  be  over  he  would  make  her 
his  wife. 

She  trembled  with  passionate  resentment.  Nothing  had 
ever  moved  her  so  forcibly.  She  took  out  her  pearl  hat- 
pin and  stabbed  out  the  eyes  of  the  Virgin,  almost  shaking 
with  passion,  and  scratched  and  obliterated  the  face  of 
the  Christ  child.  This  done,  she  extinguished  the  little 
lamp  and  slammed  to  the  doors. 

She  laughed  savagely  as  she  went  back  into  the  sitting- 
room. 

"The  Virgin  indeed ! — and  his  child ! — well,  I've  taught 


224  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

him!"  and  she  flung  past  the  Russian  servant  with  a 
look  which  was  a  curse,  so  that  the  old  man  crossed  him- 
self and  quickly  barred  the  entrance  door,  when  she 
stamped  off  down  the  stairs. 

Arrived  in  her  gilded  salon  at  the  Universal,  she  would 
like  to  have  wrung  some  one's  neck.  She  had  never  been 
so  full  of  rage  in  her  life.  She  did  find  a  little  satisfac- 
tion in  a  kick  at  Fou-Chow,  who  fled  whining  to  his 
faithful  Marie  who  had  come  in  to  carry  away  her  mis- 
tress' sable  cloak. 

The  maid's  face  became  thunderous.  A  look  of  sul- 
len hate  gleamed  in  her  dark  eyes. 

"She  will  kick  thee,  my  angel,  just  once  too  often," 
she  murmured  to  the  wee  creature  when  she  had  carried 
him  from  the  room.  "And  then  we  shall  see,  thy  Marie 
knows  that  which  may  punish  her  some  day  soon !" 

Harietta,  quite  indifferent  to  these  matters,  telephoned 
immediately  to  Ferdinand  Ardayre. 

He  must  come  to  her  instantly  without  a  moment's 
delay !  And  she  stamped  her  foot. 

A  plan  which  might  give  her  some  satisfaction  to  exe- 
cute had  evolved  itself  in  her  brain. 

He  was  in  his  room  in  another  part  of  the  building,  and 
hastened  to  obey  her  command.  She  was  livid  with  anger 
and  seemed  to  have  grown  old. 

She  went  over  and  kissed  him  voluptuously  and  then 
she  began : 

~'Ferdie,"  and  she  whispered  hoarsely,  "now  you  have 
got  to  do  something  for  me.  You  are  not  going  to  let 
the  child  of  Verisschenzko  be  master  of  Ardayre!  We 
are  going  to  gain  time  and  perhaps  some  day  be  able  to 
do  away  with  it.  Now  I  have  got  a  plan  which  will 
lighten  your  heart." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  225 

She  knew  that  she  could  count  upon  him,  for  since  the 
birth  of  the  little  Benedict  and  the  death  of  John,  Ferdi- 
nand had  stormed  with  threats  of  vengeance,  while  know- 
ing his  impotency. 

His  life  with  Harietta  had  grown  a  torment  and  a  hell — 
but  with  every  fresh  unkindness  and  pang  of  jealousy 
she  caused  him,  his  low  passion  for  her  increased.  He 
knew  that  she  loved  Verisschenzko,  whom  he  hated  with 
all  his  might — and  if  she  now  proposed  to  hurt  both  his 
enemies,  he  would  assist  her  joyfully. 

"Tell  it  me,"  he  begged. 

So  she  drew  him  to  the  sofa  and  picked  up  a  block  and 
pencil. 

"Do  you  possess  any  of  the  writing  of  your  dead 
brother,  John,  or  if  you  don't,  can  you  get  some  from 
anywhere  ?" 

Ferdinand's  face  blazed  with  excitement.  What  was 
she  going  to  suggest  ? 

"I  always  keep  one  letter — in  which  he  ordered  me 
never  to  address  him  and  told  me  I  was  not  of  his  blood 
but  was  a  mongrel  Turk." 

"That  is  splendid — where  is  it?  Have  you  got  it 
here?" 

"Yes,  in  my  despatch  box.     I'll  go  and  fetch  it  now." 

"Very  well.  I  will  get  rid  of  Stanislass  for  the  eve- 
ning and  we  can  have  some  hours  alone — and  you  will  see 
if  I  don't  help  you  to  worry  them  hideously,  Ferdie,  even 
if  that  is  all  we  can  do !" 

And  when  he  had  left  her  presence,  she  paced  the  room 
excitedly. 

"It  will  prevent  Stepan's  marrying  her  at  all  events  for 
a  long  time." 

The  thought  that  she  had  lost  Verisschenzko  completely 


226  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

unbalanced  her.  She  would  have  crawled  to  him  now 
on  the  ground.  She  had  not  known  she  could  feel  so 
much.  Every  animal,  sensual  desire  made  her  throb  with 
rage.  She  would  have  torn  the  flesh  from  Amaryllis' 
face  had  she  been  there,  and  thrust  her  hatpin  into  her 
real  eyes. 

But  the  spoke  should  be  put  in  the  wheel  of  Veris- 
schenzko's  marrying  her!  And  perhaps  some  other  re- 
venge would  come.  Hans? — Hans  should  be  made  to 
carry  the  scheme  through — Hans  and  Ferdinand.  She 
dug  her  nails  into  the  palms  of  her  hands.  No  wild  ani- 
mal in  its  cage  could  have  felt  more  rage. 

Then  when  Ferdinand  returned  with  John's  letter,  she 
controlled  herself  and  sat  down  at  the  table  beside  him  and 
supervised  his  attempts  at  copying  the  writing,  while  she 
unfolded  the  details  of  her  scheme. 

"You  know  John's  body  was  never  found,"  she  in- 
formed him  presently.  "I  heard  all  the  details  from  a 
man  who  was  there — they  only  picked  up  his  glasses  and 
his  boot.  He  could  very  well  have  been  taken  prisoner  by 
the  Germans  and  be  in  hospital  there,  too  ill  to  have  writ- 
ten for  all  this  time.  Now  think  how  he  ought  to  word 
his  first  letter  to  his  precious  bread  and  butter  wife  !" 

"There  must  be  only  the  fewest  words,  because  I  don't 
know  what  terms  they  were  on.  I  think  a  postcard,  if 
we  get  one,  would  be  the  best  thing." 

"Of  course — I  have  some  one  who  can  see'  to  that — it 
will  be  worth  waiting  the  week  for— we'll  procure  several, 
and  meanwhile  you  must  practise  his  hand." 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  a  very  creditable  forgery 
had  been  secured,  and  the  two  jealous  beings  felt  satis- 
fied with  their  work  for  the  time. 


CHAPTER  XX 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Denzil  and  his  mother  should 
spend  Christmas  with  Amaryllis  at  Ardayre.  Both  felt 
that  it  was  going  to  be  the  most  wonderful  moment  when 
they  should  meet.  There  were  no  obstacles  now  to  their 
happiness  and  everything  promised  to  be  full  of  joy.  The 
months  which  had  gone  by  since  John's  death  had  been 
turning  Amaryllis  into  a  more  serene  and  forceful  being. 
The  whole  burden  of  the  estate  had  fallen  upon  her  young 
shoulders  and  she  had  endeavoured  to  carry  it  with  dignity 
and  success — and  yet  have  time  to  spare  for  her  war 
organisations  in  the  county.  She  had  developed  extraordi- 
narily and  had  grown  from  a  very  pretty  girl  into  a 
most  beautiful  young  woman.  What  would  Denzil  think 
of  her?  That  was  her  preoccupation — and  what  would 
he  think  of  the  baby  Benedict? 

The  great  rooms  at  Ardayre  were  shut  up  except  the 
green  drawing  room,  and  she  lived  in  her  own  apartments, 
the  cedar  parlour  being  her  chief  pleasure.  It  was  now 
filled  with  her  books  and  all  the  personal  belongings  which 
expressed  her  taste.  The  nurseries  for  the  heir  were 
just  above. 

Her  guests  were  to  be  there  on  the  twenty- third  of  De- 
cember, and  when  the  hour  came  for  the  motor  to  arrive 
from  the  station  Amaryllis  grew  hot  and  cold  with  ex- 
citement. She  had  made  herself  look  quite  exquisite  in  a 
soft  black  frock,  and  her  heart  was  beating  almost  to 
suffocation  when  she  heard  the  footsteps  in  the  hall. 


228  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Then  the  green  drawing  room  door  opened  and  Colonel 
and  Mrs.  Ardayre  were  announced  and  were  immediately 
greeted  by  the  great  tawny  dogs  and  then  by  their  mis- 
tress. A  pang  contracted  her  heart  when  she  caught 
sight  of  £>enzil — he  was  so  very  pale  and  thin,  and  he 
walked  painfully  and  slowly  with  a  stick.  It  was  only  a 
wreck  of  the  splendid  lover  who  had  come  to  Ardayre 
before.  But  he  was  always  Denzil  of  the  ardent  eyes 
and  the  crisp  bronze  hair ! 

They  were  people  of  the  world,  and  so  the  welcoming 
speeches  went  off  easily,  and  they  sat  round  the  tea-table 
with  its  singing  kettle  and  its  delectable  buns  and  Devon- 
shire cream,  and  Amaryllis  was  gracious  and  radiant  and 
full  of  dignity  and  charm.  But  inwardly  she  felt  de- 
liciously  shy  and  happy. 

They  had  neither  met  nor  written  any  love  letters  since 
the  April  day  when  they  had  parted  in  Brook  Street,  which 
now  seemed  to  be  an  age  away. 

Her  attraction  for  Denzil  had  increased  a  hundredfold. 
He  thought  as  she  sat  there  pouring  out  the  tea,  of  how  he 
would  woo  her  with  subtlety  before  he  would  claim  her 
for  his  own.  He  was  stimulated  by  her  sweet  shyness 
and  her  tender  aloofness.  The  tea  seemed  to  him  to  be 
interminably  long  and  he  wished  for  it  to  end. 
•  Mrs.  Ardayre  behaved  with  admirable  tact;  she  spoke 
of  all  sorts  of  light  and  friendly  things,  and  then  asked 
about  the  baby.  Was  he  not  wonderful,  now  at  seven 
months  old ! 

The  lovely  vivid  pink  deepened  in  Amaryllis'  smooth 
velvet  cheeks,  and  her  grey  eyes  became  soft  as  a  doe's. 

"You  shall  see  him  in  the  morning — he  will  be  asleep 
now.  Of  course,  to  me  he  is  wonderful,  but  I  daresay 
he  is  only  an  ordinary  child." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  229 

She  had  peeped  at  Denzil  and  had  seen  that  his  face 
fell  a  little  as  she  said  they  should  only  see  the  baby  the 
next  day,  and  she  had  felt  a  wave  of  joy.  She  knew 
that  she  meant  to  take  him  up  quietly  presently — just  he 
and  she  alone ! 

After  they  had  finished  tea,  Mrs.  Ardayre  suggested 
that  she  should  go  to  her  room. 

"I  am  tired,  Amaryllis,  my  dear,"  she  announced  cheer- 
ily,— "and  I  shall  rest  for  an  hour  before  dinner." 

"Come  then  and  I  will  show  you  both  your  rooms." 

They  came  up  the  broad  staircase  with  her,  Denzil  a 
step  at  a  time,  slowly,  and  at  the  top  she  stopped  and  said 
to  him : 

"Perhaps  you  will  remember  that  is  the  door  of  the 
cedar  parlour  at  the  end  of  the  passage — you  will  find  me 
there  when  I  have  installed  your  mother  comfortably. 
Your  room  is  next  to  hers,"  and  she  pointed  to  two  doors 
through  the  archway  of  the  gallery.  Then  she  went  on 
with  Mrs.  Ardayre. 

Some  contrary  nervousness  made  her  remain  for  quite 
a  little  while. 

Was  Cousin  Beatrice  sure  that  she  was  comfortable? 
Had  she  everything  she  wanted?  Her  maid  was  already 
unpacking,  and  all  was  warm  and  fresh  scented  with 
lavender  and  bowls  of  violets  on  the  dressing  table. 

"My  dear  child,  it  is  Paradise,  and  you  are  a  perfect 
angel — I  shall  revel  in  it  after  the  cold  journey  down." 

So  at  last  there  was  no  excuse  to  stay  longer,  and 
Amaryllis  left  the  room ;  but  in  the  passage  it  seemed  as 
though  her  knees  were  trembling,  and  as  she  passed  the 
top  of  the  staircase  she  leaned  for  a  second  or  two  on  the 
balustrade. 

The  longed  for  moment  had  come ! 


23o  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

When  she  opened  the  door  of  the  cedar  parlour,  with 
its  soft  lamps  and  great  glowing  logs,  she  saw  Denzil 
was  already  there,  seated  on  the  sofa  beside  the  fire. 

She  ran  to  him  before  he  could  rise,  the  movement  she 
knew  was -pain  to  him — and  she  sank  down  beside  him  and 
held  out  her  hands. 

"Beloved  darling!"  he  whispered  in  exaltation,  and  she 
slipped  forward  into  his  arms. 

Oh!  the  bliss  of  it  all!  After  the  months  of  separa- 
tion, and  the  horrible  trenches  and  the  battles  and  the 
suffering,  the  days  and  nights  of  agonising  pain !  It 
seemed  to  Denzil  that  his  being  melted  within  him — 
Heaven  itself  had  come. 

They  could  not  speak  coherently  for  some  moments, 
everything  was  too  filled  with  holy  joy. 

"At  last !  at  last !"  he  cried  presently.  "Now  we  shall 
part  no  more !" 

Then  he  had  to  be  assured  that  she  loved  him  still. 

"It  is  I  who  must  take  care  of  you  now,  Denzil,  and  I 
shall  love  to  do  that,"  she  cooed. 

"I  have  not  thought  much  of  the  hurt,"  he  answered 
her,  "for  all  these  months  I  have  just  been  living  for  this 
day,  and  now  it  has  come,  darling  one,  and  I  can  hardly 
believe  that  it  is  true,  it  is  so  absolutely  divine " 

They  could  not  talk  of  anything  but  themselves  and 
love  for  an  hour,  they  told  each  other  of  their  longings 
and  anxieties — and  at  last  they  spoke  of  John. 

"He  was  so  splendid,"  Denzil  said,  "unselfish  to  the 
very  end,"  and  then  he  described  to  Amaryllis  how  he 
actually  had  died,  and  of  his  last  words,  and  their  thought 
for  her. 

"If  he  could  see  us,  I  think  that  he  would  be  glad  that 
we  are  happy." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  231 

"I  know  that  he  would,"  but  the  tears  had  gathered  in 
her  eyes. 

Denzil  stroked  her  hand  gently;  he  did  not  make  any 
lover's  caress,  and  she  appreciated  his  understanding,  and 
after  a  little  she  leaned  against  his  arm. 

"Denzil — when  we  live  here  together,  we  must  al- 
ways try  to  carry  out  all  that  John  would  have  wished  to 
do.  It  meant  his  very  soul — and  you  will  help  me  to  be 
a  worthy  mother  of  the  Ardayre  son." 

She  had  not  spoken  of  the  child  before — some  unac- 
countable shyness  had  restrained  her,  even  in  their  fond- 
est moments.  And  yet  the  thought  had  never  been 
absent  from  either.  It  had  throbbed  there  in  their  hearts. 
It  was  going  to  be  so  exquisite  to  whisper  about  it 
presently ! 

And  Denzil  had  waited  until  she  mentioned  this  dear 
interest.  He  did  not  wish  to  assume  any  rights,  or  take 
anything  for  granted.  She  should  be  queen,  not  only  of 
his  heart,  but  of  everything,  until  she  should  herself  ac- 
cord him  authority. 

But  his  eyes  grew  wistful  now  as  he  leaned  nearer  to 
her. 

"Darling,  am  I  not  going  to  be  allowed  to  see — my 
son !" 

Then,  with  a  cry,  Amaryllis  bent  forward  and  was 
clasped  in  his  arms.  All  her  wayward  shyness  melted, 
and  she  poured  forth  her  delight  in  the  baby — their  very 
own! 

"You  will  see  that  he  is  just  you,  Denzil, — as  we  knew 
that  he  would  be,  and  now  I  will  go  and  fetch  him  for 
you  and  bring  him  here,  because  the  stairs  up  to  the 
nursery  are  so  steep  they  might  hurt  you  to  climb." 

She  left  him  swiftly,  and  was  not  long  gone,  and  Denzil 


232  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

sat  there  by  the  fire  trembling  with  an  emotion  which  he 
could  not  have  described  in  words. 

The  door  opened  again  and  Amaryllis  returned  with 
the  tiny  sleeping  form,  in  its  long  white  nightgown  and 
wrapped  ,in  a  great  fleecy  shawl. 

She  crept  up  to  him  very  softly.  The  little  one  was 
sound  asleep.  She  made  a  sign  to  Denzil  not  to  rise,  and 
she  bent  down  and  placed  the  bundle  tenderly  in  his  arms. 

Then  they  gazed  at  the  little  face  together  with  wor- 
shipping eyes. 

It  was  just  a  round  pink  and  white  cherub  like  thou- 
sands of  others  in  the  world;  the  very  long  eyelashes, 
sweeping  the  sleep-flushed  cheeks,  and  minute  rings  of 
bronze-gold  hair  curling  over  the  edge  of  the  close  cambric 
cap ;  but  it  seemed  to  those  two  looking  at  it  to  be  unique, 
and  more  beautiful  than  the  dawn. 

"Isn't  he  perfect,  Denzil!"  whispered  Amaryllis,  in 
ecstasy. 

"Marvellous !"  and  Denzil's  voice  was  awed. 

Then  the  wonder  and  the  divinity  of  love  and  its 
spirit  of  creation  came  over  them  both  and  a  mist  of 
deep  feeling  grew  in  both  their  eyes. 

At  dinner  they  were  all  so  happy  together.  Mrs.  Ar- 
dayre  was  a  note  of  harmony  anywhere.  She  had  gradu- 
ally grown  to  understand  the  situation  in  the  months  of 
her  son's  recovering  from  his  wounds  and  although  no 
actual  words  had  passed  between  them  Denzil  felt  that 
his  mother  had  divined  the  truth  and  it  made  things  easier. 

Afterwards,  in  the  green  drawing  room,  Amaryllis 
played  to  them  and  delighted  their  ears,  and  then  they 
went  up  to  the  cedar  parlour  and  sat  round  the  fire  and 
talked  and  made  plans. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  233 

If  it  should  be  quite  hopeless  that  Denzil  could  ever 
return  to  the  front,  or  be  of  service  behind  the  lines, 
he  meant  to  enter  Parliament.  The  thought  that  his 
active  soldiering  was  probably  done  was  very  bitter  to 
him,  and  the  two  women  who  loved  him  tried  to  create  an 
enthusiasm  for  the  parliamentary  idea.  The  one  cer- 
tainty was  that  his  adventurous  spirit  would  never  remain 
behind  in  the  background,  whatever  occurred. 

They  would  be  married  at  the  beginning  of  February, 
they  decided.  The  whole  of  their  world  knew  of  John's 
written  wishes,  and  no  unkind  comments  would  be  likely 
to  arise. 

And  when  Beatrice  Ardayre  left  them  alone  to  say 
good-night  to  each  other,  Denzil  drew  Amaryllis  back  to 
his  side! 

"I  think  the  world  is  going  to  be  a  totally  new  place, 
darling — after  the  war.  If  it  goes  on  very  long  the 
gradual  privation  and  suffering  and  misery  will  create  a 
new  order  of  things,  and  all  of  us  should  be  ready  to  face 
it.  Only  fools  and  weaklings  cling  to  past  systems  when 
the  on-rolling  wave  has  washed  away  their  uses.  What- 
ever seems  for  the  real  good  of  England  must  be  one's 
only  aim,  even  if  it  means  abandoning  what  was  the  ideal 
of  the  Family  for  all  these  hundreds  of  years.  You  will 
advance  with  me,  Sweetheart,  will  you  not,  even  if  it 
should  seem  to  be  a  chasm  we  are  crossing?" 

"Denzil,  of  course  I  will." 

He  sighed  a  little. 

"The  old  order  made  England  great — but  that  cycle  is 
over  for  all  the  world — and  what  we  shall  have  to  do  is 
to  stind  steady  and  try  to  direct  the  new  on-rush,  so  that 
it  makes  us  greater  and  does  not  sweep  civilisation  into 
darkness,  as  when  Rome  fell.  It  may  be  a  fairly  easy 


234  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

matter  because,  as  Stepan  says,  we  have  got  such  funda- 
mental common  sense.  It  would  be  much  less  hard  if 
the  people  at  the  top  were  really  courageous  and  unham- 
pered by  trying  to  secure  votes,  or  whatever  it  is,  which 
makes  them  wobble  and  surrender  at  the  wrong  moment. 
If  the  politicians  could  have  that  dogged,  serene  stead- 
fastness which  the  Tommies,  and  almost  every  man  has 
in  the  trenches,  how  supreme  we  should  be !" 

"I  hope  so,  but  one  must  have  vision  as  well  so  that 
one  can  look  right  ahead  and  not  stumble  over  retained 
old  prejudices ;  people  so  often  want  a  thing  and  yet  have 
not  will  enough  to  eliminate  qualities  in  themselves  which 
must  obviously  prevent  their  obtaining  their  desire." 

Denzil  was  not  looking  at  her  now,  he  was  gazing  ahead 
with  his  blue  eyes  filled  with  light,  and  she  saw  that  there 
was  something  far  beyond  the  physical  magnetism  which 
drew  her  to  him,  and  a  pride  and  joy  filled  her.  She 
would  indeed  be  his  helpmate  in  all  his  undertakings  and 
striving  for  noble  ends.  They  talked  for  some  time  of 
these  things  and  their  plans  to  aid  in  their  fulfilment,  and 
then  they  gradually  spoke  of  Verisschenzko  and  Amaryllis 
asked  what  was  the  latest  news — he  was  in  Russia,  she 
supposed. 

"Stepan  will  be  arriving  in  London  next  week.  I 
heard  from  him  to-day.  Won't  you  ask  him  down, 
darling,  to  spend  the  New  Year  with  us  here — it  would 
be  so  good  to  see  the  dear  old  boy  again." 

This  was  agreed  upon,  and  then  they  drifted  back  to 
lovers'  whisperings,  and  presently  they  said  a  fond 
good-night. 

Christmas  Day  of  1915,  and  the  weeks  which  followed 
were  like  some  happy  dream  for  Denzil  and  Amaryllis 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  235 

Each  hour  seemed  to  discover  some  new  aspect  which 
caused  further  understanding  and  love  to  augment.  They 
spent  long  late  afternoons  in  the  cedar  parlour  dipping 
into  books  and  a  delicious  pleasure  was  for  Amaryllis  to 
be  nestled  in  Denzil's  arms  on  the  sofa  while  he  read  aloud 
to  her  in  his  deep,  magnetic  voice. 

Beatrice  Ardayre  at  this  period  was  like  a  pleased 
mother  cat  purring  in  the  sun  while  her  kittens  gambol. 
Her  well-beloved  was  content,  and  she  was  satisfied.  She 
always  seemed  to  be  there  when  wanted  and  yet  to  leave 
the  lovers  principally  to  themselves. 

Another  of  their  joys  was  to  motor  about  the  beautiful 
country,  exploring  the  old,  old  churches  and  quaint  farm- 
houses and  manors  with  which  North  Somerset  abounds ; 
and  they  went  all  over  the  estate  also  and  saw  all  the 
people  who  were  their  people  and  their  friends.  The 
union  was  thoroughly  approved  of,  and  although  the  en- 
gagement was  not  to  be  officially  announced  until  after 
the  New  Year  it  was  quite  understood,  as  the  tenants  had 
all  heard  of  John's  instructions  in  his  will.  But  perhaps 
the  most  supreme  joy  of  all  was  when  they  could  play 
with  the  baby  Benedict  together  alone  for  half  an  hour 
before  he  went  to  bed.  Then  they  were  just  as  foolish 
and  primitive  as  any  other  two  young  thing^  with  their 
firstborn.  He  was  a  very  fine  and  forward  baby  and  al- 
ready expressed  a  spirit  and  will  of  his  own,  and  it  always 
gave  Denzil  the  very  strangest  thrill  when  he  seized  and 
clung  firmly  to  one  of  his  fingers  with  his  tiny,  strong, 
chubby  hand.  And  over  all  his  qualities  and  perfections 
his  parents  then  said  wonderful  things  together ! 

Every  subtle  and  exquisite  pleasure,  mystical,  symbol- 
ical and  material,  which  either  had  ever  dreamed  of  as 
connected  with  this  living  proof  of  love,  was  realised  for 


236  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

them.  And  to  know  that  soon,  soon,  they  would  be  united 
for  always — wedded — not  merely  engaged.  Oh !  that  was 
glorious — when  passion  need  be  under  no  restraint — 
when  there  need  be  no  good-night ! 

For  in  this  the  chivalry  of  Denzil  never  failed — and 
each  day  they  grew  to  respect  each  other  more. 

Verisschenzko  was  to  arrive  in  time  for  dinner  on  the 
last  day  of  the  old  year.  That  afternoon  was  one  of  even 
unusually  perfect  happiness — motoring  slowly  round  the 
park  and  up  on  to  the  hills  in  Amaryllis'  little  two-seater 
which  she  drove  herself.  They  got  out  at  the  top  and 
leaned  upon  a  gate  from  which  they  seemed  to  be  looking 
down  over  the  world.  Peaceful,  smiling,  prosperous  Eng- 
land !  Miles  and  miles  of  her  fairest  country  lay  there 
in  front  of  them,  giving  no  echo  of  war. 

"•If  we  had  been  born  sixty  years  ago,  Denzil,  what 
different  thoughts  this  view  would  be  creating  in  our 
minds.  We  would  have  no  speculation — no  uncertainty — 
we  should  feel  just  happy  that  it  is  ours  and  would  be 
ours  for  ever !  The  world  was  asleep  then !" 

"Stepan  would  say  that  it  was  resting  before  the  throes 
of  struggle  must  begin.  Now  we  are  going  to  face  some- 
thing much  greater  than  the  actual  war  in  France,  but 
if  we  are  strong  we  ought  to  come  through.  We  have 
always  been  saner  than  other  peoples,  so  perhaps  our  up- 
heaval will  be  saner  too." 

"Whatever  there  is  to  face,  we  shall  be  together,  Denzil, 
and  nothing  can  really  matter  then — and  we  must  make 
our  little  Benedict  armed  for  the  future,  so  that  he  will 
be  fitted  to  cope  with  the  conditions  of  his  day." 

"Look  there  at  the  blue  distance,  darling,  could  anything 
be  more  peaceful?  How  can  anyone  in  the  country  real- 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  237 

ise  that  not  two  hundred  miles  away  this  awful  war  is 
grinding  on?" 

Denzil  put  an  arm  round  her  and  drew  her  close  to 
him  and  clasped  her  fondly. 

"But  just  for  a  little  we  must  try  to  forget  about  it. 
I  never  dreamed  of  such  perfect  happiness  as  we  are  hav- 
ing, Sweetheart, — my  own!" 

"Nor  I,  Denzil, — I  am  almost  afraid " 

But  he  kissed  her  passionately  and  bade  this  thought 
begone.  Afraid  of  what?  Nothing  mattered  since  they 
would  always  be  together.  February  would  soon  come, 
and  then  they  would  never  part  again. 

So  the  vague  foreboding  passed  from  Amaryllis'  heart, 
and  in  fond  visionings  they  whispered  plans  for  the 
spring  and  the  summer  and  the  growing  years.  And  so 
at  last  they  returned  to  the  house  and  found  the  after- 
noon post  waiting  for  them.  Filson  had  just  brought  it  in 
and  Amaryllis'  letters  lay  in  a  pile  on  her  writing  table. 

There  happened  to  be  none  for  Denzil  and  he  went 
over  to  the  fireplace  and  was  stroking  the  head  of  Mer- 
cury, the  greatest  of  the  big  tawny  dogs,  when  he  was 
startled  by  a  little  ominous  cry  from  his  Beloved,  and  on 
looking  up  he  saw  that  she  had  sunk  into  a  chair,  her  face 
deadly  pale,  while  there  had  fluttered  to  the  floor  at  her 
feet  a  torn  envelope  and  a  foreign  looking  postcard. 

What  could  this  mean  ? 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Verisschenzko  had  come  straight  through  from  Petro- 
grad  to  England.  He  had  been  delayed  and  had  never 
returned  to  Paris  since  September.  He  knew  nothing  of 
Harietta's  sacrilege  as  yet.  But  he  had  at  last  accumu- 
lated sufficient  proof  against  her  to  have  her  entirely  in 
his  hands. 

He  thought  over  the  whole  matter  as  he  came  down  in 
the  train  to  Ardayre.  She  was  a  grave  danger  to  the 
Allies  and  had  betrayed  them  again  and  again.  He  must 
have  no  mercy.  Her  last  crimes  had  been  against  France, 
her  punishment  would  be  easier  to  manage  there. 

The  strain  of  cruelty  in  his  nature  came  uppermost  as 
he  reviewed  the  evil  which  she  had  done.  Stanislass' 
haunted  face  seemed  to  look  at  him  out  of  the  mist  of  the 
half-lit  carriage.  What  might  not  Poland  have  accom- 
plished with  such  a  leader  as  Boleski  had  been  before  this 
baneful  passion  fell  upon  him !  Then  he  conjured  up  the 
imaged  faces  of  the  brave  Frenchmen  who  were  betrayed 
by  Harietta  to  Hans,  and  shot  in  Germany. 

A  spy's  death  in  war  time  was  not  an  ignoble  one,  and 
they  had  gone  there  with  their  lives  in  their  hands.  Had 
Harietta  been  true  to  that  side,  and  had  she  been  acting 
from  patriotism,  he  could  have  desired  to  save  her  the 
death  sentence  now.  But  she  had  never  been  true;  no 
country  mattered  to  her ;  she  had  given  to  him  secrets  as 
well  as  to  Hans!  Then  he  laughed  to  himself  grimly. 
So  her  danseur  at  the  Ardayre  ball  was  the  first  husband ! 
238 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  239 

The  man  who  used  to  beat  her  with  a  stick — and  who  had 
let  her  divorce  him  in  obedience  to  the  higher  command ! 

How  clever  the  whole  thing  was!  If  it  had  not  all 
been  so  serious,  it  would  have  been  interesting  to  allow 
her  to  live  longer  to  watch  what  next  she  would  do,  but 
the  issues  at  stake  were  too  vital  to  delay.  He  would  not 
hesitate ;  he  would  denounce  her  to  the  French  authorities 
immediately  on  his  return  to  Paris,  and  without  one  qualm 
or  regret.  She  had  lived  well  and  played  "crooked" — 
and  now  it  was  meet  that  she  should  pay  the  price. 

Filson  announced  him  in  the  green  drawing  room  when 
he  reached  Ardayre,  but  only  Denzil  rose  to  greet  him 
and  wrung  his  hand.  He  noticed  that  his  friend's  face 
looked  stern  and  rather  pale. 

"I'm  so  awfully  glad  that  you  have  come,  Stepan,"  and 
they  exchanged  handshakes  and  greetings.  "You  are 
about  the  only  person  I  should  want  to  see  just  now, 
because  you  know  the  whole  history.  Something  unpre- 
cedented has  happened.  A  communication  has  come  ap- 
parently from  John  to  Amaryllis  from  a  prisoners'  camp 
in  Germany,  and  yet  as  far  as  one  can  be  certain  of  any- 
thing I  am  certain  that  I  saw  him  die " 

Verisschenzko  was  greatly  startled.  What  a  frightful 
complication  it  would  make  should  John  be  alive ! 

"The  letter — merely  a  postcard  enclosed  in  an  en- 
velope— came  by  this  afternoon's  post — and  as  you  can 
understand,  it  has  frightfully  upset  us  all.  It  is  a  sort 
of  thing  about  which  one  cannot  analyse  one's  feelings. 
John  had  a  right  to  his  life  and  we  ought  to  be  glad — 
but  the  idea  of  giving  up  Amaryllis — of  having  all  the 
suffering  and  the  parting  again — Stepan,  it  is  cruelly 
hard." 

Verisschenzko  sat  down  in  one  of  the  big  chairs,  and 


24o  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Euterpe,  the  lesser  tawny  dog,  came  and  pushed  her 
nose  into  his  hand.  He  patted  her  silky  head  absently. 
He  was  collecting  his  thoughts ;  the  shock  of  this  news 
was  considerable  and  he  must  steady  his  judgment. 

"John  wrote  to  her  himself,  you  say?  It  is  not  a 
message  through  a  third  person — no  ?" 

"It  appears  to  be  in  his  own  writing."  Denzil  stood 
leaning  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  his  face  seemed  to  grow 
more  haggard  with  each  word.  "Merely  saying  that  he 
was  taken  prisoner  by  the  enemy  when  they  made  the 
counter  attack,  and  that  he  had  been  too  ill  to  write  or 
speak  until  now.  I  can't  understand  it — because  they  did 
not  make  the  counter  attack  until  after  I  was  carried  in 
— and  even  though  I  was  unconscious  then,  the  stretcher 
bearers  must  have  seen  John  when  they  lifted  me  if  he 
had  been  there.  Nothing  was  found  but  his  glasses  and 
we  concluded  another  shell  had  burst  somewhere  near  his 
body  after  I  was  carried  in.  Stepan,  I  swear  to  God  I 
saw  him  die." 

"It  sounds  extraordinary.  Try  to  tell  me  every  detail, 
Denzil." 

So  the  story  of  John's  last  moments  was  gone  over 
again,  and  all  the  most  minute  events  which  had  occurred. 
And  at  the  end  of  it  the  two  solid  facts  stood  out  incontro- 
vertibly — John's  body  was  never  found,  but  Denzil  had 
seen  him  die. 

"How  long  will  it  take  to  communicate  with  him,  I 
wonder?  We  can  through  the  American  Ambassador,  I 
suppose,  because  he  gives  no  address.  It  must  be  awful 
for  him  lying  there  wounded  with  no  news.  I  say  this 
because  I  suppose  I  must  accept  his  own  writing,  but  I 
cannot  yet  bring  myself  to  believe  that  he  can  be  alive." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  241 

Verisschenzko  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  he  asked : 

"May  I  see  my  Lady  Amaryllis?" 

"Yes,  she  told  me  to  bring  you  to  her  as  soon  as  I 
should  have  explained  to  you  the  whole  affair.  Come 
now." 

They  went  up  the  stairs  together,  and  they  hardly  spoke 
a  word.  And  when  they  reached  the  cedar  parlour  Denzil 
let  Verisschenzko  go  in  in  front  of  him. 

"I  have  brought  Stepan  to  you,"  he  told  Amaryllis.  "I 
am  going  to  leave  you  to  talk  now." 

Amaryllis  was  white  as  milk  and  her  grey  eyes  were  dis- 
turbed and  very  troubled.  She  held  out  her  two  hands  to 
Verisschenzko  and  he  kissed  them  with  affectionate 
worship. 

"Lady  of  my  Soul !" 

"Oh!  Stepan, — comfort  me — give  me  counsel.  It  is 
such  a  terrible  moment  in  my  life.  What  am  I  to  do?" 

"It  is  indeed  difficult  for  you — we  must  think  it  all 
out " 

"Poor  John — I  ought  to  be  glad  that  he  is  alive,  and 
I  am — really — only,  oh !  Stepan,  I  love  Denzil  so  dearly. 
It  is  all  too  awfully  complicated.  What  so  greatly  aston- 
ishes me  about  it  is  that  John  has  not  written  deliriously, 
or  as  though  he  has  lost  his  memory,  and  yet  if  we  had 
carried  out  his  instructions  and  wishes  we  should  be 
married  now,  Denzil  and  I, — and  he  never  alludes  to  the 
possibility  of  this!  It  is  written  as  though  no  complica- 
tions could  enter  into  the  case " 

"It  sounds  strange — may  I  see  the  letter?" 

She  got  up  and  went  over  to  the  writing  table  and  re- 
turned with  a  packet  and  the  envelope  which  contained 
the  card.  It  was  not  one  which  prisoners  use  as  a  rule ; 


242  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

it  had  the  picture  of  a  German  town  on  it  and  the  post- 
mark on  the  envelope  was  of  a  place  in  Holland.  Veris- 
schenzko  read  it  carefully: 

I  have  been  too  ill  to  write  before — I  was  taken  prisoner 
in  the  counter  attack  and  was  unconscious.  I  am  sending 
this  by  the  kindness  of  a  nurse  through  Holland.  Everyone 
must  have  believed  that  I  was  dead.  I  am  longing  for  news 
of  you,  dearest.  I  shall  soon  be  well.  Do  not  worry.  I 
am  going  to  be  moved  and  will  write  again  with  address. 
All  love,— 

"JOHN." 

The  writing  was  rather  feeble  as  a  very  ill  person's 
would  naturally  be,  but  the  name  "John"  was  firm  and 
very  legible. 

"You  are  certain  that  it  is  his  writing?" 

"Yes" — and  then  she  handed  him  another  letter  from 
the  packet — John's  last  one  to  her.  "You  can  see  for 
yourself — it  is  the  same  hand." 

Stepan  took  both  over  to  the  lamp,  and  was  bending 
to  examine  them  when  he  gave  a  little  cry  : 

"Sapristi !" — and  instead  of  looking  at  the  writings  he 
sniffed  strongly  at  the  card,  and  then  again.  Amaryllis 
watched  him  amazedly. 

"The  same !  By  the  Lord,  it  is  the  work  of  Ferdinand. 
No  one  could  mistake  his  scent  who  had  once  smelt  it. 
The  muskrat,  the  scorpion!  But  he  has  betrayed 
himself." 

Amaryllis  grew  paler  as  she  came  close  beside  him. 

"Stepan,  oh,  tell  me !    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  believe  this  to  be  a  forgery — the  scent  is  a  clue  to 
me.  Smell  it — there  is  a  lingering  sickly  aroma  round  it. 
It  came  in  an  envelope,  you  see, — that  would  preserve  it. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  243 

It  is  an  Eastern  perfume,  very  heavy, — what  do  you  say  ?" 

She  wrinkled  her  delicate  nose : 

"Yes,  there  is  some  scent  from  it.  One  perceives  it  at 
first  and  then  it  goes  off.  Oh,  Stepan,  please  do  not 
torture  me.  Can  you  be  quite  sure?" 

"I  am  absolutely  certain  that  whether  it  is  in  John's 
writing  or  not,  Ferdinand,  or  some  one  who  uses  his 
unique  scent,  has  touched  that  card.  Now  we  must  in- 
vestigate everything." 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  in  agitation  for  a 
few  moments ;  talking  rapidly  to  himself — half  in  Russian 
— Amaryllis  caught  bits.  "Ferdinand — how  to  his  ad- 
vantage? None.  What  then?  Harietta?  Harietta — 
but  why  for  her?" 

Then  he  sat  down  and  stared  into  the  fire,  his  yellow- 
green  eyes  blazing  with  intelligence,  his  clear  brain  balanc- 
ing up  things.  But  now  he  did  not  speak  his  thoughts 
aloud. 

"She  is  jealous.  I  remember — she  imagined  that  it  is 
my  child.  She  believes  I  may  marry  Amaryllis.  It  is  as 
plain  as  day !" 

He  jumped  up  and  excitedly  held  out  his  hands. 

"Let  us  fetch  Denzil,"  he  cried  joyously.  "I  can  ex- 
plain everything." 

Amaryllis  left  the  room  swiftly  and  called  when  she 
got  outside  his  door : 

"Denzil — do  come." 

He  joined  them  in  a  second  or  two— there  as  he  was,  in 
a  blue  silk  dressing  gown,  as  he  had  just  been  going  to 
dress  for  dinner. 

He  looked  from  one  face  to  the  other  anxiously  and 
Stepan  immediately  spoke. 


244  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"I  think  that  the  card  is  a  forgery,  Denzil.  I  believe 
it  to  have  been  written  by  Ferdinand  Ardayre — at  the  in- 
stigation of  Harietta  Boleski.  She  would  have  means  to 
obtain  the  postcard,  and  have  it  sent  through  Holland 
too." 

"But  why — why  should  she?"  Amaryllis  exclaimed  in 
wonderment.  "What  possible  reason  could  she  have  for 
wishing  to  be  so  cruel  to  us.  We  were  always  very  nice 
to  her,  as  you  know." 

Verisschenzko  laughed  cynically. 

"She  was  jealous  of  you  all  the  same.  But  Denzil,  I 
track  it  by  the  scent.  I  know  Ferdinand  uses  that  scent," 
he  held  out  the  card.  "Smell." 

Denzil  sniffed  as  Amaryllis  had  done. 

"It  is  so  faint  I  should  not  have  remarked  it  unless  you 
had  told  me — but  I  daresay  if  it  was  a  scent  one  had 
smelt  before,  one  would  be  struck  by  it!  But  how  are 
you  going  to  prove  it,  Stepan?  We  shall  have  to  have 
convincing  proof — because  I  am  the  only  witness  of  poor 
John's  death,  and  it  could  easily  be  said  that  I  am  too 
deeply  interested  to  be  reliable.  For  God's  sake,  old 
friend,  think  of  some  way  of  making  a  certainty." 

"I  have  a  way  which  I  can  enforce  as  soon  as  I  reach 
Paris.  Meanwhile  say  nothing  to  any  one  and  put  the 
thought  of  it  out  of  your  heads.  The  evidence  of  your 
own  eyes  convinced  you  that  John  is  dead ;  you  found  it 
difficult  to  accept  that  he  was  alive  even  when  seeing  what 
appeared  to  be  his  own  writing,  but  if  I  assure  you  that 
this  is  forged  you  can  be  at  peace.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

Amaryllis'  lips  were  trembling ;  the  shock  and  then  this 
counter  shock  were  unhinging  her.  She  was  horrified  at 
herself  that  she  should  not  catch  at  every  straw  to  prove 
John  was  alive,  instead  of  feeling  some  sense  of  relief 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  245 

when  Verisschenzko  protested  that  the  postcard  was  a 
forgery. 

Poor  John!  Good,  and  kind,  and  unselfish.  It  was 
all  too  agitating.  But  was  just  life  such  a  very  great 
thing?  She  knew  that  had  she  the  choice  she  would 
rather  be  dead  than  separated  now  from  Denzil.  And 
if  John  were  really  to  be  alive — what  misery  he  would  be 
obliged  to  suffer,  knowing  the  situation. 

"Quite  apart  from  what  to  me  is  a  convincing  proof, 
the  scent,"  Verisschenzko  went  on,  "the  card  must  be  a 
forgery  because  of  John's  seeming  oblivion  of  the  pos- 
sibility that  you  two  might  have  already  carried  out  his 
wishes.  All  this  would  have  been  very  unlike  him.  But 
if  it  is,  as  I  think,  Ferdinand's  and  Harietta  Boleski's 
work,  they  would  not  be  likely  to  know  that  John  had  de- 
sired that  Denzil  should  marry  you,  Amaryllis,  and  so 
would  have  thought  a  short  card  with  longings  to  see  you 
would  be  a  natural  thing  to  write.  Indeed  you  can  be  at 
rest.  And  now  I  will  go  and  dress  for  dinner,  and  we 
will  forget  disturbing  thoughts." 

Amaryllis  and  Denzil  will  always  remember  Stepan's 
wonderful  tact  and  goodness  to  them  that  evening;  he 
kept  everything  calm  and  thrilled  them  all  with  his  stories 
and  his  conversation  and  his  own  wonderfully  magnetic 
personality.  And  after  dinner  he  played  to  them  in  the 
green  drawing  room  and,  as  Mrs.  Ardayre  said,  seemed 
to  bring  peace  and  healing  to  all  their  troubled  souls. 

But  when  he  was  alone  with  Denzil  late,  after  the 
two  women  had  retired  to  bed,  he  sunk  into  a  deep  chair 
in  the  smoking  room  and  suddenly  burst  into  a  peal  of 
cynical  laughter. 

"What  the  devil's  up?"  demanded  Denzil,  astonished. 

"I  am  thinking  of  Harietta's  exquisite  mistake.     She 


246  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

believes  the  baby  is  mine!  She  is  mad  with  a  goat's 
jealousy;  she  supposes  it  is  I  who  will  marry  Amaryllis 
— hence  her  plot!  Does  it  not  show  how  the  good  are 
protected  and  the  evil  fall  into  their  own  traps !" 

"Of  course !     She  was  in  love  with  you !" 

"In  love !  Mon  Dieu !  you  call  that  love !  I  mastered 
her  body  and  was  unobtainable.  She  was  never  able  to 
draw  me  more  than  a  person  could  to  whom  I  should  pay 
two  hundred  francs.  She  knew  that  perfectly — it  en- 
raged her  always.  The  threads  are  now  completely  in  my 
hands.  Conceive  of  it,  Denzil!  The  man  at  the  Ar- 
dayre  ball  was  her  first  husband  for  whom  she  always  re- 
tained some  kind  of  animal  affection — because  he  used  to 
beat  her.  They  married  her  to  Stanislass  just  to  obtain 
the  secrets  of  Poland,  and  any  other  thing  which  she 
could  pick  up.  Her  marvellous  stupidity  and  incredible 
want  of  all  moral  restraint  has  made  her  the  most  bril- 
liant spy.  No  principles  to  hamper  her — nothing.  She 
has  only  tripped  up  through  jealousy  now.  When  she 
felt  that  she  had  lost  me  she  grew  to  desire  me  with  the 
only  part  of  her  nature  with  which  she  desires  anything, 
her  flesh — then  she  became  unbalanced,  and  in  September 
before  I  left,  gave  the  clue  into  my  hands.  I  shall  not 
bore  you  with  all  the  details,  but  I  have  them  both — she 
and  Ferdinand  Ardayre.  The  first  husband  has  gone 
back  to  Germany  from  Sweden,  but  we  shall  secure  him, 
too,  presently.  Meanwhile  I  shall  hand  Harietta  to  the 
French  authorities — her  last  exploits  are  against  France. 
She  has  enabled  the  Germans  to  shoot  six  or  seven  brave 
fellows,  besides  giving  information  of  the  most  important 
kind  wormed  from  foolish  elderly  adorers  and  above  all 
from  Stanislass  himself." 

"She  will  be  shot,  I  suppose." 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  247 

"Probably.  But  first  she  shall  confess  about  the  post- 
card from  the  prison  camp.  I  shall  go  to  Paris  imme- 
diately, Denzil ;  there  must  be  no  delay." 

"You  will  not  feel  the  slightest  twinge  because  she  was 
your  mistress,  if  she  is  shot,  Stepan?  I  ask  because  the 
combination  of  possible  emotions  is  interesting  and 
unusual." 

"Not  for  an  instant — "  and  suddenly  Verisschenzko's 
yellow-green  eyes  flashed  fire  and  his  face  grew  trans- 
figured with  fierce  hate.  "You  do  not  know  the  affection 
I  had  for  Stanislass  from  my  boyhood — he  was  my  leader, 
my  ideal.  No  paltry  aims — a  great  pioneer  of  freedom 
on  the  sanest  lines.  He  might  have  altered  the  history 
of  our  two  countries — he  was  the  light  we  need,  and 
this  foul,  loathsome  creature  has  destroyed  not  only  his 
soul  and  his  body,  but  the  protector  and  defender  of  a 
conception  of  freedom  which  might  have  been  realised. 
I  would  strangle  her  with  my  own  hands." 

"Stanislass  must  have  been  a  weakling,  Stepan,  to  have 
let  her  destroy  him.  He  could  never  have  ruled.  It 
strikes  me  that  this  is  the  proof  of  another  of  your  the- 
ories. It  must  be  some  debt  of  his  previous  life  that  he 
is  paying  to  this  woman.  He  was  given  his  chance  to  use 
strength  against  her  and  failed." 

The  hate  died  out  of  Verisschenzko's  face — and  the 
look  of  calm  reasoning  returned. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,  Denzil.  You  are  wiser  than  I. 
So  I  shall  not  give  her  up,  for  punishment  of  her  crimes. 
I  shall  only  give  her  up  because  of  justice — she  must  not 
be  at  large.  You  see,  even  in  my  case, — I  who  pride  my- 
self on  being  balanced,  can  have  my  true  point  of  view 
obsessed  by  hate.  It  is  an  ignoble  passion,  my  son !" 

"You  will  catch  Ferdinand  too  ?" 


248  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"Undoubtedly — lie  is  just  a  rotten  little  snipe,  but  he 
does  mischief  as  Harietta's  tool — and  through  his  business 
in  Holland." 

"He  loathes  the  English — that  is  his  reason,  but 
Madame  Boleski  has  no  incentive  like  that." 

"Harietta  has  no  country — she  would  be  willing  to 
betray  any  one  of  them  to  gratify  any  personal  desire. 
If  she  had  been  a  patriot  exclusively  working  for  Ger- 
many, one  could  have  respected  her,  but  she  has  often 
betrayed  their  secrets  to  me — for  jewels — and  other  things 
she  required  at  the  moment.  No  mercy  can  be  shown  at 
all." 

"In  these  days  there  is  no  use  in  having  sentiment 
just  because  a  spy  is  a  woman — but  I  am  glad  it  is  not  my 
duty  to  deliver  her  up." 

Verisschenzko  smiled. 

"I  cannot  help  my  nature,  Denzil, — or  rather  the  at- 
tributes of  the  nation  into  which  in  this  life  I  am  born. 
I  shall  hand  Harietta  over  to  justice  without  a  regret." 

Then  they  parted  for  the  night  with  much  of  the  dis- 
turbance and  the  complex  emotions  removed  from  Denzil's 
heart. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

When  Verisschenzko  reached  Paris  and  discovered  the 
desecration  of  the  Ikon,  an  icy  rage  came  over  him.  He 
knew,  even  before  questioning  his  old  servant,  that  it  could 
only  be  the  work  of  Harietta.  Jealousy  alone  would  be 
the  cause  of  such  a  wanton  act.  It  revealed  to  him  the 
certainty  of  his  theory  that  she  had  imagined  the  little 
Benedict  to  be  his  child.  No  further  proof  that  the  post- 
card was  a  forgery  was  really  needed,  but  he  would  see 
her  once  more  and  obtain  extra  confirmation. 

His  yellow-green  eyes  gleamed  in  a  curious  way  as  he 
stood  looking  at  the  mutilated  picture. 

That  her  ridiculous  and  accursed  hatpin  should  have 
dared  to  touch  the  eyes  of  his  soul's  lady,  and  scratch  out 
the  face  of  the  child ! 

But  he  must  not  let  this  emotion  of  personal  anger 
affect  what  he  intended  in  any  case  to  do  from  motives 
of  justice.  In  the  morning  he  would  give  all  his  proofs 
of  her  guilt  to  the  French  authorities,  and  let  the  law  take 
its  course — but  to-night  he  would  make  her  come  there 
to  his  apartment  and  hear  from  him  an  indictment  of  her 
crimes. 

He  sat  down  in  the  comfortable  chair  in  his  own  sitting 
room  and  began  to  think. 

His  face  was  ominous;  all  the  fierce  passions  of  his 
nation  and  of  his  nature  held  him  for  a  while. 

His  dog,  an  intelligent  terrier  whom  he  loved,  sat  there 
before  the  fire  and  watched  him,  wagging  his  stump  of  a 
«49 


250 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 


tail  now  and  then  nervously,  but  not  daring  to  approach. 
Then,  after  half  an  hour  had  gone  by,  he  rose  and  went 
to  the  telephone.  He  called  up  the  Universal  and  asked 
to  be  put  through  to  the  apartment  of  Madame  Boleski, 
and  soon  heard  Harietta's  voice.  It  was  a  little  anxious — 
and  yet  insolent  too. 

"Yes?  Is  that  you  Stepan!  Darling  Brute!  What 
do  you  want?" 

"You — cannot  you  come  and  dine  with  me  to-night — 
alone  ?" 

His  voice  was  honey  sweet,  with  a  spontaneous,  frank 
ring  in  it,  only  his  face  still  looked  as  a  fiend's. 

"You  have  just  arrived?     How  divine!" 

"This  instant,  so  I  rushed  at  once  to  the  telephone.  I 
long  for  you — come — now." 

He  allowed  passion  to  quiver  in  the  last  notes — he 
must  be  sure  that  she  would  be  drawn. 

"He  cannot  have  opened  the  doors  of  the  Ikon,"  Hari- 
etta  thought.  "I  will  go — to  see  him  again  will  be  worth 
it  anyway !" 

"All  right ! — in  half  an  hour !" 

"Soit" — and  he  put  the  receiver  down. 

Then  he  went  again  to  the  Ikon  and  examined  the 
doors ;  by  slamming  them  very  hard  and  readjusting  one 
small  golden  nail,  he  could  give  the  fastening  the  appear- 
ance of  its  having  been  jammed  and  impossible  to  open. 
He  ordered  a  wonderful  dinner  and  some  Chateau  Ykem 
of  1900.  Harietta,  he  remembered,  liked  it  better  than 
Champagne.  Its  sweetness  and  its  strength  appealed  to 
her  taste.  The  room  was  warm  and  delightful  with  its 
blazing  wood  fire.  He  looked  round  before  he  went  to 
dress,  and  then  he  laughed  softly,  and  again  Fin  nervously 
wagged  his  stump  of  a  tail. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  251 

Harietta  arrived  punctually.  She  had  made  herself 
extremely  beautiful.  Her  overmastering  desire  to  see 
Verisschenzko  had  allowed  her  usually  keen  sense  of  self- 
preservation  partially  to  sleep.  But  even  so,  underneath 
there  was  some  undefined  sense  of  uneasiness. 

Stepan  met  her  in  the  hall,  and  greeted  her  in  his  usual 
abrupt  way  without  ceremony. 

"You  will  leave  your  cloak  in  my  room,"  he  suggested, 
wishing  to  give  her  the  chance  to  look  at  the  Ikon's 
jammed  doors  and  so  put  her  at  her  ease. 

The  moment  she  found  herself  alone,  she  went  swiftly 
to  the  shrine.  She  examined  it  closely — no  the  bolt  had 
not  been  mended.  She  pulled  at  the  doors  but  she  could 
not  open  them,  and  she  remembered  with  relief  that  she 
had  slammed  them  hard.  That  would  account  for  things. 
He  certainly  could  not  yet  know  of  her  action.  The  eve- 
ning would  be  one  of  pleasure  after  all !  And  there  was 
never  any  use  in  speculating  about  to-morrows! 

Verisschenzko  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  sitting-room, 
and  they  went  straight  in  to  dinner.  A  little  table  was 
drawn  up  to  the  fire ;  all  appeared  deliciously  intimate,  and 
Harietta's  spirits  rose. 

To  her  Verisschenzko  appeared  the  most  attractive 
creature  on  earth.  Indeed,  he  had  a  wonderful  mag- 
netism which  had  intoxicated  many  women  before  her 
day.  He  was  looking  at  her  now  with  eyes  unclouded  by 
glamour.  He  saw  that  she  was  painted  and  obvious,  and 
without  real  charm.  She  could  no  longer  even  affect  his 
senses.  He  saw  nothing  but  the  reality,  the  animal, 
blatant  reality,  and  in  his  memory  there  remained  the 
pierced  out  orbs  of  the  Virgin  and  the  scratched  face  of 
the  Christ  child. 

Everything  fierce  and  cunning  in  his  nature  was  in 


252  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

action — he  was  glorying  in  the  torture  he  meant  to  in- 
flict, the  torture  of  jealousy  and  unsatisfied  suspicion. 

He  talked  subtly,  deliberately  stirring  her  curiosity  and 
arousing  her  apprehension.  He  had  not  mentioned 
Amaryllis,  and  yet  he  had  conveyed  to  her,  as  though  it 
were  an  unconscious  admission,  that  he  had  been  in  Eng- 
land with  her,  and  that  she  reigned  in  his  soul.  Then 
he  used  every  one  of  his  arts  of  fascination  so  that  all 
Harietta's  desires  were  inflamed  once  more,  and  by  the 
time  she  had  eaten  of  the  rich  Russian  dishes  and  drank 
of  the  Chateau  Ykem  she  was  experiencing  the  strongest 
emotion  she  had  ever  known  in  her  life,  while  a  sense  of 
impotence  to  move  him  augmented  her  other  feelings. 

Her  eyes  swam  with  passion,  as  she  leaned  over  the 
table  whispering  words  of  the  most  violent  love  in  his 
ears. 

Verisschenzko  remained  absolutely  unstirred. 

"How  silly  you  were  to  send  that  postcard  to  Lady 
Ardayre,"  he  remarked  contemplatively  in  the  middle  of 
one  of  her  burning  sentences.  "It  was  not  worthy  of 
your  usual  methods — a  child  could  see  that  it  was  a 
forgery.  If  you  had  not  done  that  I  might  have  made 
you  very  happy  to-night — for  the  last  time — my  little 
goat!" 

"Stepan — what  card  ?  But  you  are  going  to  make  me 
happy  anyway,  darling  Brute;  that  is  what  I  have  come 
for,  and  you  know  it !" 

Her  eyes  were  not  so  successfully  innocent  as  usual 
when  she  lied.  She  was  uneasy  at  his  stolidity,  some  fear 
stayed  with  her  that  perhaps  he  meant  not  to  gratify  her 
desires  just  to  be  provoking.  He  had  teased  her  more 
than  once  before. 

Verisschenzko  went  on,  lighting  his  cigarette  calmly : 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  253 

"It  was  a  silly  plot — Ferdinand  Ardayre  wrote  it  and 
you  dictated  it ;  I  perceived  the  whole  thing  at  once.  You 
did  it  because  you  were  jealous  of  Lady  Ardayre — you 
believe  that  I  love  her " 

"I  do  not  know  anything  about  a  card,  but  I  am  jealous 
about  that  hateful  bit  of  bread  and  butter,"  and  her  eyes 
flashed.  "It  is  so  unlike  you  to  worry  over  such  a  crea- 
ture— I'm  what  you  like !" 

He  laughed  softly.  "A  man  has  many  sides — you  ap- 
peal to  his  lowest.  Fortunately  it  ts  not  in  command  of 
him  all  the  time — but  let  me  tell  you  more  about  the 
forgery.  You  over-reached  yourselves — you  made  John 
ignore  something  which  would  have  been  his  first  thought, 
thus  the  fraud  was  exposed  at  once." 

Her  jealousy  blazed  up,  so  that  she  forgot  herself  and 
prudence. 

"You  mean  about  the  child — your  child " 

The  ominous  gleam  came  into  Verisschenzko's  eyes. 

"My  child — you  spoke  of  it  once  before  and  I  warned 
you — I  never  speak  idly." 

She  got  up  from  the  table  and  came  and  flung  her  arms 
round  his  neck. 

"Stepan,  I  love  you — I  love  you !  I  would  like  to  kill 
Amaryllis  and  the  child — I  want  you — why  are  you  so 
changed  ?" 

He  only  laughed  scornfully  again,  while  he  disengaged 
her  arms. 

"Do  you  know  how  I  found  out?  By  the  perfume — 
the  same  as  you  told  me  must  be  that  of  Stanislass'  mis- 
tress— on  the  handkerchief  marked  *F.  A/  The  whole 
thing  was  dramatically  childish.  You  thought  to  prove 
her  husband  was  still  alive,  would  stop  my  marriage  with 
Amaryllis  Ardayre!" 


254  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"Then  you  are  going  to  marry  her !" 

Harietta's  hazel  eyes  flashed  fire,  her  face  had  grown 
distorted  with  passion  and  her  cheeks  burned  beyond  the 
rouge. 

She  appeared  a  most  revolting  sight  to  Stepan.  He 
watched  her  with  cold,  critical  eyes.  As  she  put  out  her 
hands  he  noticed  how  the  thumbs  turned  right  back. 
How  had  he  ever  been  able  to  touch  her  in  the  past !  He 
shivered  with  disgust  and  degradation  at  the  thought. 

She  saw  his  movement  of  repulsion,  and  completely  lost 
her  head. 

She  flung  herself  into  his  arms  and  almost  strangled 
him  in  her  furious  embrace,  while  she  threw  all  restraint 
to  the  winds  and  poured  out  a  torrent  of  passion,  inter- 
mingled with  curses  for  one  who  had  dared  to  try  and 
rob  her  of  this  adored  mate. 

It  was  a  wonderful  and  very  sickening  exhibition, 
Verisschenzko  thought.  He  remained  as  a  statue  of  ice. 
Then  when  she  had  exhausted  herself  a  little,  he  spoke 
with  withering  calm. 

"Control  yourself,  Harietta;  such  emotion  will  leave 
ugly  lines,  and  you  cannot  afford  to  spoil  the  one  good 
you  possess.  I  have  not  the  least  desire  for  you — I  find 
that  you  look  plain  and  only  bore  me.  But  now  listen  to 
me  for  a  little — I  have  something  to  say!"  His  voice 
changed  from  the  cynical  callousness  to  a  deep  note  of 
gravity :  "You  need  not  even  tell  me  in  words  that  you 
sent  the  forgery — you  have  given  me  ample  proof.  That 
subject  is  finished — but  I  will  make  you  listen  to  the  re- 
cital of  some  of  your  vile  deeds."  The  note  grew  sterner 
and  his  eyes  held  her  cowed.  "Ah !  what  instruments  of 
the  devil  are  such  women  as  you — possessing  the  greatest 
of  all  power  over  men  you  have  used  it  only  for  ill — 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 


255 


wherever  you  have  passed  there  is  a  trail  of  degradation 
and  slime.  Think  of  Stanislass !  A  man  of  fine  purpose 
and  lofty  ideals.  What  is  he  now?  A  poor  lifeless  sem- 
blance of  a  man  with  neither  brain  nor  will.  You  have 
used  him — not  even  to  gratify  your  own  low  lust,  but  to 
betray  countries — and  one  of  them  your  husband's  coun- 
try, which  ought  to  have  been  your  own." 

She  sank  to  her  knees  at  his  side ;  he  went  on  merci- 
lessly. He  spoke  of  many  names  which  she  knew,  and 
then  he  came  to  Ferdinand  Ardayre. 

"They  tell  me  he  is  drinking  and  sodden  with  mor- 
phine, and  raves  wildly  of  you.  Think  of  them  all — 
where  are  they  now?  Dead  many  of  them — and  you 
have  survived  and  prospered  like  a  vampire,  sucking  their 
blood.  Do  you  ever  think  of  a  human  being  but  your 
own  degraded  self?  You  would  sacrifice  your  nearest 
and  dearest  for  a  moment's  personal  gain.  You  are  not 
caught  and  strangled  because  the  outside  good  natures 
come  easily  to  you.  It  makes  things  smooth  to  smile 
and  commit  little  acts  of  showy  kindness  which  cost 
you  nothing.  You  live  and  breathe  and  have  your  being 
like  a  great  maggot  fattening  on  a  putrid  corpse.  I  blush 
to  think  that  I  have  ever  used  your  body  for  my  own 
ends,  loathing  you  all  the  time.  I  have  watched  you 
cynically  when  I  should  have  wrung  your  neck." 

She  sobbed  hoarsely  and  held  out  her  hands. 

"For  all  these  things  you  might  still  have  gone  free, 
Harietta — and  fate  would  punish  you  in  time,  but  you 
have  committed  that  great  crime  for  which  there  can  be 
no  mercy.  You  have  acted  the  part  of  a  spy.  A 
wretched  spy,  not  for  patriotism  but  for  your  own  ends 
— you  have  not  been  faithful  to  either  side.  Have  you 
not  often  given  me  the  secrets  of  your  late  husband  Hans  ? 


256  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

Do  you  care  one  atom  which  country  wins?  Not  you. 
The  whole  sordid  business  has  had  only  one  aim — some 
personal  gratification." 

He  paused — and  she  began  to  speak,  now  choking  with 
rage,  but  he  motioned  her  to  be  silent. 

"Do  you  think  so  lightly  of  the  great  issues  which  are 
shaking  the  world  that  you  imagine  that  you  can  do  these 
things  with  impunity?  I  tell  you  that  soon  you  must  pay 
the  price.  I  am  not  the  only  one  who  kr.ows  of  your 
ways." 

She  got  up  from  the  floor  now  and  tossed  her  head. 
Important  things  had  never  been  to  her  realities — her  fear 
left  her.  What  agitated  her  now  was  that  Stepan,  whom 
she  adored,  should  speak  to  her  in  such  a  tone.  She 
threw  herself  into  his  arms  once  more,  passionately  pro- 
claiming her  love. 

He  thrust  her  from  him  in  shrinking  disgust,  and  the 
cruel  vein  in  his  character  was  aroused. 

"Love! — do  not  dare  to  desecrate  the  name  of  love. 
You  do  not  know  what  it  means.  I  do — and  this  shall 
always  remain  with  you  as  a  remembrance.  I  love 
Amaryllis  Ardayre.  She  is  my  ideal  of  a  woman — 
tender  and  restrained  and  true — I  shall  always  lay  my 
life  at  her  feet.  I  love  her  with  a  love  such  beings  as 
you  cannot  dream  of,  knowing  only  the  senses  and  playing 
only  to  them.  That  will  be  your  knowledge  always,  that 
I  worship  and  reverence  this  woman,  and  hold  you  in  su- 
preme contempt." 

Harietta  writhed  and  whined  on  the  sofa  where  she  had 
fallen. 

"Go,"  he  went  on  icily.  "I  have  no  further  use  for 
you,  and  my  car  is  waiting  below.  You  may  as  well  avail 
yourself  of  it  and  return  to  your  hotel.  In  the  morning 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  257 

the  last  proof  of  the  interest  I  have  taken  in  you  may  be 
given,  but  to-night  you  can  sleep." 

Harietta  cried  aloud — she  was  frightened  at  last.  What 
did  he  mean?  But  even  fear  was  swallowed  up  in  the 
frantic  thought  that  he  had  done  with  her,  that  he  would 
never  any  more  hold  her  in  his  arms.  Her  world  lay  in 
ruins,  he  seemed  the  one  and  only  good.  She  grovelled 
on  the  floor  and  kissed  his  feet. 

"Master,  Master!  Keep  me  near  you — I  will  be  your 
slave " 

But  Verisschenzko  pushed  her  gently  aside  with  his 
foot  and  going  to  a  table  near  took  up  a  cigarette.  He 
lighted  it  serenely,  glancing  indifferently  at  the  dishevelled 
heap  of  a  woman  still  crouching  on  the  floor. 

"Enough  of  this  dramatic  nonsense,"  and  he  blew  a 
ring  of  smoke.  "I  advise  you  to  go  quietly  to  bed — you 
may  not  sleep  so  softly  on  future  nights." 

Fear  overcame  her  again — what  could  he  mean?  She 
got  up  and  held  on  to  the  table,  searching  his  face  with 
burning  eyes. 

"Why  should  I  not  sleep  so  softly  always?"  and  her 
voice  was  thick. 

He  laughed  hoarsely. 

"Who  knows?  Life  is  a  gamble  in  these  days.  You 
must  ask  your  interesting  German  friend." 

She  became  ghastly  white — that  there  was  real  danger 
was  beginning  to  dawn  upon  her.  The  rouge  stood  out 
like  that  on  the  painted  face  of  a  clown. 

Verisschenzko  remained  completely  unmoved.  He 
pressed  the  bell,  and  his  Russian  servant,  warned  be- 
forehand, brought  him  in  his  fur  coat  and  hat,  and  as- 
sisted him  to  put  them  on. 


258  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"I  will  take  Madame  to  get  her  cloak,"  he  announced 
calmly.  "Wait  here  to  show  us  out." 

There  was  nothing  for  Harietta  to  do  but  follow  him, 
as  he  went  towards  the  bedroom  door.  She  was  stunned. 

He  walked  over  to  the  Ikon,  and  slipping  a  paper 
knife  under  them  opened  wide  the  doors ;  dien  he  turned 
to  her,  and  the  very  life  melted  within  her  when  she  saw 
his  face. 

"This  is  your  work,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  mutilations, 
"and  for  that  and  many  other  things,  Earietta,  you  shall 
at  last  pay  the  price.  Now  come,  I  wil!  take  you  back  to 
your  lover,  and  your  husband — both  will  be  waiting  and 
longing  for  your  return.  Come !" 

She  dropped  on  the  floor  and  refused  to  move  so  that 
he  was  obliged  to  call  in  the  servant,  and  together  they 
lifted  her,  the  one  holding  her  up,  while  the  other  wrapped 
her  in  her  cloak.  Then,  each  supporting  her,  they  made 
their  way  down  the  stairs,  and  placed  her  in  the  waiting 
motor,  Verisschenzko  taking  the  seat  at  her  side — and  so 
they  drove  to  the  Universal.  She  should  sleep  to-night  in 
peace  and  have  time  to  think  over  the  events  of  the  eve- 
ning. But  to-morrow  he  must  no  longer  delay  about  giv- 
ing information  to  the  authorities. 

She  cowered  in  the  motor  until  they  had  almost  reached 
the  door,  when  she  flung  her  arms  round  his  neck  and 
kissed  him  wildly  again,  sobbing  with  rage  and  terror : 

"You  shall  not  marry  Amaryllis;  I  will  kill  you  both 
first." 

He  smiled  in  the  darkness,  and  she  felt  that  he  was 
mocking  her,  and  suddenly  turned  and  bit  his  arm,  her 
teeth  meeting  in  the  cloth  of  his  fur-lined  coat. 

He  shook  her  off  as  he  would  have  done  a  rat : 

"Never  quite  apropos,  Harietta!    Always  a  little  late! 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  259 

But  here  we  have  arrived,  and  you  will  not  care  for  your 
admirers,  the  concierge,  and  the  lift  men,  to  see  you  in 
such  a  state.  Put  your  veil  over  your  face  and  go  quietly 
to  your  rooms.  I  will  wish  you  a  very  good-night — and 
farewell !" 

He  got  out  and  stood  with  mock  respect  uncovered  to 
assist  her,  and  she  was  obliged  to  follow  him.  The  hall 
porter  and  the  numerous  personnel  of  the  hotel  were 
looking  on. 

He  bowed  once  more  and  appeared  to  kiss  her  hand : 

"Good-bye,  Harietta !     Sleep  well." 

Then  he  re-entered  the  car  and  was  whirled  away. 

She  staggered  for  a  second  and  then  moved  forward  to 
the  lift.  But  as  she  went  in,  two  tall  men  who  had  been 
waiting  stepped  forward  and  joined  her,  and  all  three 
were  carried  aloft,  and  as  she  walked  to  her  salon  she 
saw  that  they  were  following  her. 

"There  will  be  no  more  kicks  for  thee,  my  Angel !"  the 
maid,  peeping  from  a  door,  whispered  exultingly  to  Fou- 
Chow !  "Thy  Marie  has  saved  thee  at  last !" 

When  Verisschenzko  again  reached  his  own  sitting 
room  he  paced  up  and  down  for  half  an  hour.  He  was 
horribly  agitated,  and  angry  with  himself  for  being  so. 

Denzil  had  been  right ;  when  it  came  to  the  point,  it  was 
a  ghastly  thing  to  have  to  do,  to  give  a  woman  up  to  death 
— even  though  her  crimes  amply  justified  such  action. 

And  what  was  death? 

To  such  a  one  as  Harietta  what  would  death  mean? 
A  sinking  into  oblivion  for  a  period,  and  then  a  rebirth  in 
some  sphere  of  suffering  where  the  first  lessons  of  the 
meanings  of  things  might  be  learned  ?  That  would  seem 


2<5o  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

to  be  the  probable  working  of  the  law — so  that  she  might 
eventually  obtain  a  soul. 

He  must  not  speculate  further  about  her  though,  he 
must  keep  his  nerve. 

And  his  own  life — what  would  it  now  become?  Would 
the  spirit  of  freedom,  stirring  in  his  beloved  country,  ar- 
rive at  any  good?  Or  would  the  red  current  of  revolu- 
tion, once  let  loose,  swamp  all  reason  and  flow  in  rivers 
of  blood? 

He  would  be  powerless  to  help  if  he  let  weakness  over- 
master him  now. 

The  immediate  picture  looked  black  and  hopeless  to  his 
far-seeing  eyes. 

But  his  place  must  be  in  Petrograd  now,  until  the  end. 
His  activities,  which  had  obliged  him  to  be  away  from 
Russia,  were  finished,  and  new  ones  had  begun  which  he 
must  direct,  there  in  the  heart  of  things. 

"The  world  is  aching  for  freedom,  God,"  his  stormy 
thoughts  ran,  "but  we  cannot  hope  to  receive  it  until  we 
have  paid  the  price  of  the  seons  of  greed  and  self-seeking 
which  have  held  us,  the  ignorance,  the  low  material  gain. 
We  must  now  reap  that  sowing.  The  divine  Christ — 
one  man — was  enough  as  a  sacrifice  in  that  old  period  of 
the  world's  day — but  now  there  must  be  a  holocaust  of 
the  bravest  and  best  for  our  purification." 

He  threw  himself  into  his  chair  and  gazed  into  tjie 
glowing  embers.  What  pictures  were  forming  themselves 
there?  Nations  arising  glorified  by  a  new  religion  of 
common  sense,  education  universally  enjoyed,  the  great 
forces  studied,  and  Nature's  fundamental  principles  reck- 
oned with  and  understood. 

To  hunt  his  food. 

To  recreate  his  species. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  261 

And  to  kill  his  enemy. 

A  bright  blade  sheathed  but  ready,  a  clear  judgment 
trained  and  used,  ideals  nobly  striven  for,  and  Wisdom 
the  High  Priest  of  God. 

These  were  the  visions  he  saw  in  the  fire,  and  he  started 
to  his  feet  and  stretched  out  his  arms. 

"Strength,  God !     Strength !"  that  was  his  prayer. 

"That  we  may  go^— 

Armoured  and  militant, 

New-pithed,  new-souled,  new-visioned,  up  the  steeps 

To  those  great  altitudes  whereat  the  weak 

Live  not,  but  only  the  strong 

Have  leave  to  strive,  and  suffer,  and  achieve." 

Then  he  sat  down  and  wrote  to  Denzil. 

"I  have  all  the  needed  proofs,  my  friend.  Marry  my  soul's 
lady  in  peace  and  make  her  happy.  There  come  some  phases 
in  a  man's  life  which  require  all  his  will  to  face.  I  hope 
I  am  no  weakling.  I  return  to  Russia  immediately.  Events 
there  will  enable  me  to  blot  out  some  disturbing  memories. 

"The  end  is  not  yet.  Indeed,  I  feel  that  my  real  life  is 
only  just  beginning. 

"Ferdinand  Ardayre  is  deeply  incriminated  with  Harietta; 
it  is  only  a  question  of  a  little  time  and  he  will  be  taken 
too.  Then,  Denzil,  you,  in  the  natural  course  of  events, 
would  have  been  the  Head  of  the  Family.  You  will  need 
all  your  philosophy  never  to  feel  any  jar  in  the  situation 
with  your  son  as  the  years  go  on.  You  will  have  to  look  at 
it  squarely,  dear  old  friend,  and  know  that  it  is  impossible 
to  have  interfered  with  destiny  and  to  have  gone  scot  free. 
Then  you  will  be  able  to  accept  the  affair  with  common  sense 
and  prize  what  you  have  obtained,  without  spoiling  it  with 
futile  regrets.  You  have  paid  most  of  your  score  with 
wounds  and  suffering,  and  now  can  expect  what  happiness 
the  agony  of  the  world  can  let  a  man  enjoy. 


262,  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

My  blessings  to  you  both  and  to  the  Ardayre  son. 
And  now  adieu  for  a  long  time." 

He  had  hardly  written  the  last  line  when  the  telephone 
rang,  and  the  frantic  voice  of  Stanislass,  his  ancient 
friend,  called  to  him ! 

Harietta  had  been  taken  away  to  St.  Lazare — her  maid 
had  denounced  her.  What  could  be  done  ? 

A  great  wave  of  relief  swept  over  Stepan.  So  he  was 
not  to  be  the  instrument  of  justice  after  all ! 

How  profoundly  he  thanked  God ! 

But  the  irony  of  the  thing  shook  him. 

Harietta  would  pay  with  her  life  for  having  maltreated 
a  dog! 

Truly  the  workings  of  fate  were  marvellous. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

The  days  in  prison  for  Marietta,  before  and  after  her 
trial,  were  days  of  frenzied  terror,  alternating  with  in- 
credulity. She  would  not  believe  that  she  was  to  die. 

Stanislass  and  Ferdinand,  and  even  Verisschenzko, 
would  save  her ! 

She  loathed  the  hard  bed  at  St.  Lazare,  and  the  dis- 
comfort, and  the  ugliness,  and  the  Sister  of  Charity ! 

She  spent  hours  tramping  her  cell  like  a  wild  beast  in 
a  cage.  She  would  roar  with  inarticulate  fury,  and  cry 
aloud  to  her  husband,  and  her  lovers,  one  after  another, 
and  then  she  would  cower  in  a  corner,  shaking  with  fear. 

The  greatest  pain  of  all  was  the  thought  that  Stepan 
and  Amaryllis  would  marry  and  be  happy.  Once  or 
twice  foam  gathered  at  the  corners  of  her  lips  when  she 
thought  of  this. 

If  she  could  have  reached  Marie,  that  would  have 
given  her  some  satisfaction — to  tear  out  her  eyes!  For 
Ferdinand  Ardayre  had  told  her  how  Marie  had  given 
her  up,  working  quietly  until  she  had  all  necessary  proofs, 
and  then  denouncing  her. 

When  Stanislass  had  returned  from  the  Club,  whither 
she  had  despatched  him  for  the  evening,  so  that  she  might 
be  free  to  dine  with  Verisschenzko,  he  found  that  she 
had  already  been  taken  away. 

The  shock,  when  he  discovered  that  nothing  could  be 
done,  had  nearly  killed  him — he  now  lay  dangerously  ill 
in  a  Maison  de  Sante,  happily  unconscious  of  events. 
263 


264  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

For  Ferdinand  Ardayre  the  blow  had  fallen  with  crush- 
ing force.  The  one  strong  ihing  in  his  weak  nature  was 
his  passion  for  Harietta — and  to  be  robbed  of  her  in  such 
a  way ! 

He  battled  impotently  against  fate,  unable  even  to  try 
to  use  any  means  in  his  possession  to  get  the  death  sen- 
tence commuted,  because  he  was  too  deeply  implicated 
himself  to  make  any  stir. 

He  saw  her  in  the  prison  after  the  trial,  with  the  bars 
between  and  the  warders  near.  And  the  awful  change  in 
her  paralysed  him  with  grief.  On  the  morrow  she  was  to 
die — the  usual  death  of  a  spy. 

Her  hair  was  wild  and  her  face  without  rouge  was 
haggard  and  wan. 

She  implored  him  to  save  her. 

The  frightful  pain  of  knowing  that  he  could  do  nothing 
made  Ferdinand  desperate,  and  then  suddenly  he  became 
inspired  with  an  idea. 

He  could  at  all  events  remove  some  of  the  agony  of 
terror  from  her,  and  enable  her  to  go  to  her  death  without 
a  hideous  scene.  He  remembered  "La  Tosca" — the  same 
method  might  serve  again ! 

He  managed  to  whisper  to  her  in  broken  sentences  that 
she  would  certainly  be  saved.  The  plan  was  all  prepared, 
he  assured  her.  The  rifles  would  contain  blank  cartridges, 
and  she  must  pretend  to  fall — and  afterwards  he  would 
come,  having  bribed  every  one  and  made  the  path  smooth. 

He  lied  so  fervently  that  Harietta  was  convinced,  her 
material  brain  catching  at  any  straw.  She  must  dress 
herself  and  look  her  best,  he  told  her,  so  as  to  make  an 
impression  upon  all  the  men  concerned ;  and  then,  when 
he  had  to  leave  her,  he  arranged  with  the  prison  doctor 
that  she  might  receive  a  strong  piqure  of  morphine,  so 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  265 

that  she  would  be  serene.  She  spent  the  night  dreaming 
quite  happily  and  at  four  o'clock  was  awakened  and  began 
to  dress. 

The  drug  had  calmed  all  her  terrors  and  her  dramatic 
instinct  held  full  sway. 

She  arranged  her  toilet  with  the  utmost  care,  using  all 
her  arts  to  beautify  herself.  In  her  ears  were  Stanislass' 
ruby  earrings  and  she  wore  Stepan's  ring  and  brooch. 

Death  to  her  was  an  impossibility — she  had  never  seen 
any  one  die. 

It  was  a  wonderfully  fine  part  she  would  have  to  play, 
with  Ferdinand  there  really  going  to  save  her !  That  was 
all!  She  must  even  be  sweet  at  last  to  the  poor  sister, 
whom  she  had  snarled  at  hitherto. 

If  she  could  only  have  seen  Stepan  once  more !  Stanis- 
lass and  his  broken  life  and  fond  devotion  never  gave  her 
a  thought  or  troubled  her  at  all.  After  she  was  free,  she 
would  find  some  means  to  pay  out  Hans !  She  hated  him. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  Hans  and  his  tiresome  old  higher 
command  with  their  stupid  intrigues,  she  would  still  be 
free.  That  she  had  betrayed  countries — that  she  was 
guilty  in  any  way  never  presented  itself  to  her  mind. 

All  Verisschenzko's  passionate  indictment  had  fallen 
upon  unheeding  ears.  The  morphine  now  left  her  only 
sufficiently  conscious  for  fundamental  instincts  to  act. 

She  felt  that  she  was  a  beautiful  woman  going  to  be 
the  chief  figure  in  a  wonderfully  dramatic  scene.  Noth- 
ing solemn  had  touched  her.  Her  brain  was  light  and 
now  only  filled  with  cunning  and  coquet erie;  she  meant 
to  charm  her  guards  and  executioners  to  the  last  man ! 
And  ready  at  length,  she  walked  nonchalantly  out  of 
the  prison  and  into  the  waiting  car  which  was  to  carry  her 
to  Vincennes. 


266  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 


Now  the  end  of  all  this  is  best  toy  in  the  words  of  a 
young  French  soldier  who  was  an  eye  witness  and  wrote 
the  whole  thing  down.  To  pen  the  hideous  horror  I  find 
too  difficult  a  task. 

"Sunday — n  in  the  evening. 

"We  had  only  returned  at  that  moment  from  our  day's 
leave,  when  the  Lieutenant  came  to  us  to  announce  that 
we  should  be  of  the  piquet  to-morrow  morning  for  the 
execution  of  Madame  Boleski,  the  spy. 

"He  said  this  to  us  in  his  monotonous  voice  as  though 
he  had  been  saying  To-morrow — Revue  d'Armes' — but 
for  us,  after  a  whole  day  passed  far  from  barracks,  it  was 
a  rather  brusque  return  to  military  realities ! 

"At  once  it  became  necessary  that  we  look  through  our 
accountrements  for  the  show.  No  small  affair!  and  for 
more  than  an  hour  there  was  brushing  and  polishing  of 
straps  and  buckles.  It  was  nearly  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  before  we  could  turn  in. 

"Many  of  us  could  not  sleep— we  are  all  between 
eighteen  and  nineteen  years  old,  and  the  idea  to  see  a 
woman  killed  agitated  us.  But  little  by  little  the  whole 
band  dozed." 

"Monday  morning. 

"At  four  o'clock — reveille.  We  dress  in  haste  in  the 
dark.  Ten  minutes  later  we  all  find  ourselves  in  the 
courtyard. 

"  'A  droit  alignement  couvres  sur  deux' 

The  Lieutenant  made  the  call." 

"The  detachment  moves  off  in  the  night,  marching  in 
slow  cadence — that  step  which  so  peculiarly  gives  the  im- 
pression of  restrained  force  and  condensed  power. 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  267 

"We  leave  the  fort  and  gain  the  artillery  butts — true 
landscape  of  the  front!  Trenches,  stripped  trees,  aban- 
doned wagons ! 

"And  in  the  middle  of  all  that — our  silhouettes  of  car- 
bines, casques  and  sacs. 

"Absolute  silence. 

"We  stop — we  advance — and  suddenly  in  the  dawn 
which  has  begun,  we  arrive  at  our  destination — the  execu- 
tion ground. 

"  'Cannonier s — halte!  Couvres  sur  deux.  A  droite 
alignement.' " 

"A  rattle  of  arms.  And  there  in  front  of  us,  at  hardly 
fifteen  yards,  we  catch  sight  of  the  post. 

"Up  till  now  we  had  scarcely  felt  anything — just 
startled  impressions,  almost  of  curiosity,  but  now  I  begin 
to  experience  the  first  strong  sensation. 

"The  post!  Symbol  of  all  this  sinister  ceremony.  A 
short  post — not  higher  than  one's  shoulder!  There  it 
stands  in  front  of  the  shooting  butts.  And  to  think 
that  nearly  every  Monday " 

"Now  the  troops  from  the  Square,  which  is  in  reality 
rectangular,  the  shooting  butt  constituting  one  of  its 
sides.  Then  in  the  grim  dawn  we  wait  quietly  for  what 
is  to  come.  One  after  another,  we  see  several  auto- 
mobiles approach,  and  each  time  we  ask  ourselves,  'Is 
not  this  the  condemned?' 

"No — they  are  journalists — officers — avocats — and 
presently  a  hearse,  out  of  which  is  lifted  the  coffin. 

"The  undertakers'  men,  who  presently  will  proceed  to 
the  business  of  placing  the  body  there,  laugh  and  talk  to- 
gether as  they  sit  and  smoke.  They  are  old  habitues !" 


268  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"One  was  cold  standing  still!  It  begins  to  be  quite 
light.  The  condemned  one  may  arrive  at  any  moment, 
because  the  execution  has  been  fixed  for  exactly  at  the 
rising  of  the  sun. 

"The  men  of  the  platoon  load  their  rifles.  The  number 
of  them  is  twelve — four  sergeants,  four  corporals,  four 
soldiers. 

"And  then  there  are  the  Chasseurs  a  pied." 

"All  of  a  sudden,  two  more  cars  appear,  escorted  by  a 
company  of  dragoons. 

"This  time  it  is  She. 

"They  stop — out  of  the  first  one,  officers  descend. 
The  Commissaire  of  the  Government  who  has  con- 
demned Madame  Boleski  to  death  and  who  had  gone  a 
little  more  than  an  hour  ago  to  awake  her  in  her  cell. 
The  Captain,  reporter,  and  two  other  Captains.  The  door 
of  the  second  auto  opens,  two  gendarmes  get  out — a 
Sister  of  St.  Lazare  (what  a  terrible  metier  for  her!) — 
and  then  Harietta  Boleski ! 

"And  at  once,  accompanied  by  the  nun  and  followed  by 
the  gendarmes,  she  penetrates  into  the  square  of  men. 

"Until  now  we  have  been  enduring  a  period  of  waiting, 
we  have  been  asking  ourselves  if  it  will  have  an  effect 
upon  us — but  now  we  have  no  more  doubt.  The  effect 
has  begun ! 

"  'Present  arms !' 

"All  together  we  render  honour  to  the  dead  woman — 
for  one  considers  a  person  condemned  as  already  dead. 
And  the  bugles  begin  to  play  the  March — Do  sol  do  do 
Sol  do  do,  Mi  mi  mi 

"They  play  slowly — very  softly  and  in  the  minor  key. 

"Harietta  Boleski  walks  quickly,  the  sister  can  hardly 


THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS  269 

keep  by  her  side.  She  is  tall,  beautiful,  very  elegant.  A 
large  hat  with  floating  lace  veil  thrown  back  and  splendid 
earrings.  A  dark  dress — pretty  shoes. 

"She  looks  at  the  troops  and  the  piquet  d 'execution  a 
little  disdainfully,  and  then  she  smiles  gaily — it  is  almost 
a  titter.  The  sister  taps  her  gently  on  the  shoulder,  as  if 
to  recall  her  to  a  sense  of  order,  but  she  makes  one  care- 
less gesture  and  walks  up  to  the  post. 

"The  bugles  are  sounding  plaintively,  slowly  and  more 
slowly  all  the  time. 

"She  pauses  in  front  of  us — and  with  us  it  is  now, 
'Does  this  make  us  feel  something?'  We  must  hold  our- 
selves not  to  grow  faint. 

"To  see  this  woman  go  by  with  the  trumpets  sounding 
ever.  To  say  to  ourselves  that  in  sixty  seconds  she  will 
be  no  more.  There  will  be  no  life  in  that  beautiful  body. 
Ah !  that  is  an  emotion,  believe  me ! 

"Never  has  the  great  problem  been  brought  more 
forcibly  before  my  spirit. 

"It  is  during  the  second  when  she  passes  before  me  that 
I  receive  the  most  profound  impression,  more  even  than 
at  the  actual  moment  of  the  firing." 

"Harietta  Boleski  is  beside  the  post.  The  bugles  stop 
their  mournful  sound.  They  tie  her  to  it,  but  not  tightly, 
only  so  that  her  fall  may  not  be  too  hard.  A  gendarme 
presents  her  with  a  bandeau  for  her  eyes,  which  she 
pushes  aside  with  scorn. 

"And  when  an  officer  reads  the  sentence,  Harietta  Bo- 
leski smiles." 


"At  twelve  yards  the  platoon  is  lined  up.     The  sentence 
has  been  read. 


270  THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

"Madame  Boleski  embraces  the  Sister  of  Charity,  who 
is  very  overcome.  She  even  whispers  a  few  words  to 
comfort  her.  They  stand  back  from  the  post.  The  ad- 
jutant who  -commands  the  platoon  raises  his  sword — the 
rifles  come  in  into  position — two  seconds — and  the  sword 
falls !" 

"A  salute!" 

"Harietta  Boleski  is  no  more. 

"The  fair  body  drops  to  earth  and  immediately  an  Ad- 
jutant of  Dragoons  goes  swiftly  to  the  post,  revolver 
pointed,  and  gives  the  coup  de  grace. 

"  'Arme  sur  I'epaule — Drmt.  A  droit.  En  avant. 
Marche!' 

"And  we  file  past  the  corpse  while  the  trumpets  recom- 
mence to  sound. 

"Harietta  Boleski  is  lying  down.  She  seems  to  be  only 
reposing,  so  beautiful  she  looks. 

"The  ball  had  entered  her  heart  (we  knew  this  later) 
so  that  her  death  has  been  instantaneous. 

"All  the  troops  have  defiled  before  her  now. 

"We  regain  our  quarters. 

"But  as  we  file  into  the  courtyard  the  sun  gilds  the 
highest  window  of  the  fortress.  The  day  has  begun." 

Thus  perished  Harietta  Boleski  in  the  thirty-seventh 
year  of  her  age — in  the  midst  of  the  zest  of  life.  The 
times  are  to  strenuous  for  sentiment. 

So  perish  all  spies! 


THE  END 


ELINOR  GLYN'S  FAMOUS  NOVELS 

THREE  WEEKS 

Illustrated  Photoplay  Edition  of  the  world's  most  famous  novel. 
The  world  has  felt  upon  its  wondering  lips  the  perfumed  kisses  of  the 
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her  life  has  blazed  a  path  into  every  corner  of  the  globe. 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LOVE 

You  will  be  amazed  at  the  illuminating  revelations  in  this  new 
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HIS  HOUR 

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THIS  PASSION  CALLED  LOVE 

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THE  REASON  WHY 

Another  brilliant  love  story  with  a  decidedly  different  plot  and  theme. 
It  is  the  story  of  a  restless  young  woman,  who,  searching  for  thrills, 
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THE  PRICE  OF  THINGS 

A  fascinating  romance  of  love  and  political  intrigue  in  which  a  man's 
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tional means  of  securing  an  heir. 

THE  MAN  AND  THE  MOMENT 

The  amazing  story  of  a  marriage  made-in-a-hurry  that  is  followed 
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BEYOND  THE  ROCKS 

Illustrated  Photoplay  Edition,  starring  Rudolph  Valentino  and  Gloria 
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by  society's  conventions,  struggling  and  risking  all  for  love. 

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